


Solstice

by Epic_Glitter



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Loss of Powers, Mental Health Issues, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 79,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epic_Glitter/pseuds/Epic_Glitter
Summary: Beyond the Dark Room, Arcadia Bay holds more disturbing and devastating secrets. As Jefferson faces trial and Max struggles with regret, she discovers the work of “Saving Arcadia Bay” is far from over. Max must rely on her friends – and their mysterious powers - to find the truth, to heal, to get justice... and to make it out alive.





	1. No Return, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's gone. And I guess so are my powers? So I can't go back.
> 
> William, Rachel, Chloe.. I had a chance to fix all this and I...I...
> 
> And I feel nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Bay, minus the timeskip to lighthouse/cemetary.  
> Solstice Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2OVeQFH  
> Content warnings: school shooting; talk of death/suicide, alcohol, kidnapping and (implied) sexual assault.

" _The violent crack of thunder_  
_The anxious air she's under_  
_as if I didn't love her_  
_but I loved her_

 _How has it come to this?_  
_A week's worth of happiness_  
_Has it all been meaningless?_

 _Am I to blame because_  
_I tried?_ "

 _-_ Riley Hawke, "[Because I Tried](https://youtu.be/Wfn5W5PyerY)"

 

* * *

**Monday, October 7** **th** **, 2013**

"Nobody would ever even MISS your punk-ass..."

"You're gonna get in hella more trouble for this than drugs..."

"You don't KNOW who the FUCK I am!"

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

***BANG***

The gunshot shook the bathroom stalls as tears poured down Max's cheeks, reflecting a harsh flourescent glow as they fell onto the cold blue tiles below. She listened, frozen in place. Nathan dropped the gun, shook Chloe, paced back and forth and finally collapsed, hugging his knees and mouthing incoherent pleas of shock and remorse.

David Madsen rushed into the room, his eyes glassy and his breath shallow as he found his blue-haired step-daughter lying motionless on the floor.

"DON'T MOVE! G-Git your hands UP! B-Behind your head!" Moving on pure adrenaline and muscle memory, David kicked the gun back towards the door, leveled his service weapon at Nathan, handcuffed him and ordered him to stay down.

A jarring  _ **clang!**_  rang out as David flung each stall door open, drowning out all other sound. After the last  _ **clang!**_ , he stepped past the final stall, aiming his eyes and his gun to his left.

"DON'T MOVE! G-Git your hands u-uh… m-missy, are you hurt?" Max's eyes were swollen from crying and wide with panic as she rushed to get to her knees, raising her trembling hands in surrender and shaking her head.

_Ohmygod hehasagun he has a gun he's gonna shoot me shoot shoot Chloe oh NO Chloe Chloe's gone thisiswrongthisiswrong this is all wrong I made the wrong he's got a gun I'm gonna die gonnadieshouldadied deserve to die it should have been me I'm so sorry why why Chloe gonnaDIE_

"C-clear! It's OK...It's all right. You're safe. Gonna get… get some help." David stammered as he lowered his gun. He took a breath and looked to Nathan, still cuffed, also sobbing. He turned away from Max, donning a latex glove and rushing back across the room to check for Chloe's pulse.

Seconds later, David's deflated voice muttered, "This isn't happening. It can't… No, God. Not Chloe..."

David's face went pale, his expression completely blank. Max strained to listen, but could not understand, as a crackled voice called out through his radio. Speaking with a practiced, direct voice devoid of intonation, he replied, "Victim is D.O.A. Suspect in custody. Prepare to transport. Madsen, B.A.S., over."

The voice practically shouted again in a tense, urgent tone. Narrowing his eyes, David grunted, rushed to grab Nathan's gun off the floor with his gloved hand, and quickly led Nathan out the door.

The bathroom was suddenly, disturbingly quiet.

Max was alone.

She rose to her feet, picking a photo up off the floor as she hurried across the room.

 _This can't be real…_ She knelt down beside her best friend's body, solemnly pulling Chloe's eyelids closed over empty rolled-back eyes. Warm blood pooled around the brunette's knees and soaked her pants. A hollow ache grew inside her chest, sobbing uncontrollably, her voice echoing off the stalls and tiled walls as she tried to ignore the raw burning in her throat.

Words from another world echoed in her memory. " _I loved her so much. How can she be dead?... What kind of world does this? Who does this?"_

Max raised her right hand and focused, tensing each muscle, grasping for strands of time, desperate to feel reality twist around her again, to undo this living nightmare-

But nothing happened.

She stared into the Polaroid photo of the blue butterfly, focused and concentrated…again, nothing.

_Please, please no. If my powers are gone now...I can't go back. I can't take this back._

"Chloe, no...nononono you can't be g-gone. You can't. I need you, Chloe. I'm so sorry… I'm so so sorry. You deserved better, Chloe. I wanted to save you. I love you so much, Chloe. I should've told you. I wish you'd just wake up and call me a damn hippie. Wake up and tell me off, wake up and guilt trip me. Just wake up. Please, please wake up. You can't be d-dead, Chloe. You can't be..."

Her sight was blurring, eyes burning, heart pounding, voice growing hoarse.

Her memory flashed to another reality. The most courageous voice she'd ever heard called to her over the roaring wind.

" _Max Caulfield. Don't you forget about me."_

"I'll never forget you, Chloe. I promise. I will always love you."

Her voice was heavy, solemn, and sincere.

But the words brought her no peace.

A chaotic noise filled her ears, radio static whose roar grew louder as it echoed. She felt distantly aware of a tense, assertive voice speaking over the Blackwell P.A. system- but she could not hear the words clearly over the cacophony in her head. Max wasn't ready to leave Chl...to leave the bathroom, but she knew she was too overwhelmed to stay still. She slowly stood up, steadying herself against the nearest sink.

In the bathroom mirror, two cold and accusing eyes glared back at her. A chill went up her spine, as she recognized the doppelganger from her all-too-recent Nightmare. As her reflection began to speak, Max's vision became blurry, and the static in her head grew unbearable.

"You will never see our precious punk again, Max. How could you let her die?"

 _How could I?_  

* * *

" _I remember every word you said_  
_And I keep you wrapped inside my head_  
_So, like my heart_  
_You'll never disappear_

 _My heart doesn't hurt_  
_My heart doesn't beat_  
_I felt it break_  
_Now I can't feel a thing_ "

Audio Insurgency, feat. Riley Hawke, "[I Can't Feel A Thing](https://youtu.be/ELGiDr9c9Qg)"

* * *

 I can't take it anymore.

_Max smelled salt in the air, felt the ocean breeze against her bare arms._

_The gentle wind stung her sore cheeks, still wet with tears._

_Her reddened eyes were squinting against the sun's glare._

_Its golden reflection gleamed brightly off the water's wave-capped surface._

_She drew a shuddering breath._

_Somewhere deep inside, a key turned in its lock._

_Max cast it over the cliff's edge and into the sea, swallowed by a cresting wave._

No pain anymore, nothing to feel sorry for.

_Suddenly her heart was just… gone._

_Her tears dried._

_The lighthouse towered above._

_The tide rolled into the shore below._

_Distantly, she heard someone calling her name._

_From outside._

_Her vision began to fade, and she could no longer feel the breeze._

 

* * *

 Her eyes still closed, Max yawned and cleared her throat, sleepily stretching out her toes and feet.

"She's moving! Max? Max! Oh thank goodness, you're up!"

_What? Where am I?_

Max was lying on something firm but cushioned; a blanket was draped over her.

There were others nearby – two familiar voices. She rolled her shoulders, wrists and ankles.  _I can move. That's a good sign, right? But what reality is this? Which timeline?_

_Is Chloe…?_

Max shook the thought away, the motion causing a dull ache on the left side of her head as she eased her eyes open, slits of blue peering through the narrow space between heavy eyelids. Slowly, the faces of Dana and Kate came into focus. Max's eyes shot wide open in shock as she recognized Kate.  _How?! I...I saw her jump…_

There were bags under their eyes, and trace remnants of mascara trails running down Dana's cheeks, though she wasn't wearing any other make-up. As Max came-to, she could hear sighs of relief.

Kate's voice softly reached across the space between them. "Max, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Kate? How can you be- I mean, I thought you were…?" Max responded in a flat, monotone voice, as she tried to sit up. Disoriented and slightly dizzy, she quickly fell back against what felt like a mattress.

_I couldn't save you. I saw you fall. How-?_

"Shh, Max, it's okay," Kate said, her voice just above a whisper, "Try to relax. There, that's it."

_Right. The butterfly. Photo jumping, timelines, realities… and in this one, you're still alive?_

Her friend continued, "Do you need anything, Max? How do you feel?"

_I feel...nothing._

_What's wrong with me? This isn't how you feel when one friend is back from the dead, while your more-than-best-friend is killed. Right in front of you. And you did_ nothing _. I'm supposed to feel something right about now. Anything._

_Right?_

"I'm… I'm fine. Um… how long was I out?" Her dizziness fading away, Max propped herself up with her right hand and slowly sat up.

The rest of the room came into focus, though Max's thoughts were scattered as she gradually made sense of her surroundings. There was a window to her left, no sunlight, crescent moon perched low over the treeline. Through the glass she found a sickeningly picturesque view of brick buildings, life-sized photo exhibition displayed on manicured lawns, iron lampposts and darting fireflies – she was in the Prescott dorms. Girls' floor.

"All afternoon, and pretty much all night. It's Tuesday morning, Max. Well, almost morning." Kate offered a warm but worried smile and gently extended her arms to hug her friend.

Max instinctively jerked away from Kate, her shoulders, neck, and arms tensing at the touch.

The unexpected physical contact brought a terrifying flash of a memory to Max's entire body: a pinprick to the neck, body posed against cold hard flooring, his gloved hands moving her bound arms into another position to get just the right angle-  _NO!_

Surprised at her own reaction, she exhaled and tried, unsuccessfully, to relax.

 _I trust Kate. And she's alive, now. How could I pull away from her like that_?  _Wait – how am I even here_ _ **now**_ _? Something's wrong. I should've time skipped ahead... Not that my powers ever made any sense._

Dana addressed her classmate in a calm, encouraging tone, "Max, I know we don't really know each other. But you've always been pretty nice when we do talk, and we've all got to look out for each other, right? Anyway, of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you want! There's some water for you, next to the bed. We both want you to be comfortable- do you mind if I stay in the room with both of you? If not, no hard feelings. We're both so glad you're awake!"

Max realized the chaotic noise she heard in the bathroom was gone now, but she felt distant. Far away from her friends, her body, her pain. Everything really.

It took some effort not to zone out or fall back to sleep, but as she recognized the cheerleading uniform, Bigfoots pennant, Otters team photo, and other expertly mounted decorations on the walls, she pushed herself to focus on what Dana had asked her.

_What did she-? Oh right, "can she stay in the room?" Dana's being really sweet and maybe I should trust her… but she also watched that awful video. Still, she doesn't deserve to get kicked out of her own room (again)._

"It's fine, Dana."

"OK. If you change your mind just let me know."

They all sat quietly for a few seconds.

Kate and Dana exchanged uncertain glances. Max noticed that both of her classmates were dressed for bed: oversized teal pajama pants and white T-shirt with flower design for Kate, gray Bigfoots-branded boy shorts and gray tank top with a frog design for Dana. They both looked exhausted.

Max's legs were still under the blankets, but it felt like she was wearing pajama pants. She also wore a plain gray T-shirt, with "PROPERTY OF BLACKWELL ACADEMY, EST. 1910" screen printed to look like it'd been stenciled by hand. Max recognized it as one of the free Phys. Ed. (Physical Education) shirts that each newly admitted student received, and most never wore again. This shirt was at least a size or two too big.

_Am I wearing Dana's shirt? Why am I wearing Dana's shirt?_

_What happened? Why don't I remember how I got here?_

_Did me and her…?_

Max reached for the water bottle beside the bed, but put it back down unopened when a partly-numbed-out pain spread through her left hand from the effort. Not wanting to draw attention, she glanced only briefly at her hand, long enough to see pinky-side bruising.

With an expression of deep sympathy and understanding in her eyes, Dana broke the silence, speaking softly to Max. "Stop me if this isn't helpful, but I just want you to know...You're here at Blackwell, with us. You're safe. All classes are canceled today. Afternoon classes yesterday too. No meetings or practices, but everything's open regular hours. Dining hall, pool, track, library."

Fully awake now, Max began to piece together the details that her friends were leaving out.  _"I'm safe?" Classes were cancelled… because there was a shooting._

As her mind pressed on, adding more to the story, tears did not come. She sat, staring blankly, breathing evenly, feeling only the distant ache in her left hand.  _I was there. I was there when he shot her. I_ let _him kill her. And I guess I blacked out?_

_I...I need to be alone._

As she began to speak again, her voice sounded strained, a cold edge to each word even as she began to stutter. "Thanks for waiting with me, but, look, you d-don't have to talk around it. I remember. Nathan shot Chloe. I got it. Elephant, room. You don't have to whisper their n-names or anything."

_Kinda harsh, Caulfield. Still. Need some space. To figure out where all the dead-friend-crush feels went. To figure out if any of this is really happening – and if there's any way I can take it all back?_

"Oh, Max… We didn't mean to-" Hearing Kate's gentle voice, and seeing the concern and hurt in her eyes, Max turned away.  _I just can't right now. I'm sorry._

Dana nodded quietly. "Oh, Max. I can't imagine what this is like, but we're here for you. I can… I can try to fill in the blanks." After another deep breath, she continued, "After the gunshot, they tried to treat it like an 'active shooter' drill. But it was kind of just chaos?" Dana shivered, shaking her head at the memory, and continued, "Some were saying go outside, others were like no, stay in class, lock the doors. It was… really scary. Then they arrested Nathan, and told everyone to go back to the dorms and stay in for the night. As far as we know, um, no one else was injured or...or killed."

_Not a drill this time... an actual shooter. They just told everyone to chill for the night? Chloe's gone, and we're what, supposed to fire up Netflix? Do our homework?_

"Wow. Glad I wasn't awake to hear Wells feed us his 'stay calm' damage control bullshit. I told hi-"  _Ugh, no, wait. I warned Wells about Nathan in the other timeline. In this one I, well, I never had the chance..._  Max shook her head as she let her sentence trail off. After an awkward pause, she changed the subject. "So… how did I end up here? And what am I  _wearing_? 'Property of Blackwell'? Really?"

Little creases spread across both Dana's and Kate's foreheads as they shot each other another concerned look. Dana turned to face Max, and as their eyes met, Dana's eyebrows raised, her jaw dropped slightly, and her head tilted just so. Her expression softened as she quietly stated, "Ohhh… You really don't remember. This must be a lot to, um, wake up to. I'm so sorry, Max."

Kate pulled Dana's desk chair over to sit closer to Max, adding, "A couple minutes after Principal Wells made that announcement, we were trying to get out of the main building. Taylor said she heard 'some really weird s-,' um, a weird noise, coming from the girls' bathroom. She was scared to go in alone, and Victoria was making fun of her but they went together. When they found you-"

Dana cut in, her caring eyes still focused on Max, "-and by the way, what gives, Madsen? You were alone, and  _injured_ , and he just leaves? Anyway. Sorry, Kate."

"It's OK. Mr. Madsen really...confuses me, too. I was saying, when Victoria group texted the rest of the hall, we kind of led you back here? You were really out of it, Max. Your door was locked, and my room is a mess right now..."

"So instead you got my bed," Dana added, barely missing a beat, and straining to sound lighthearted, "and some stylin' PJs."

Her effort was lost on Max. Somewhere around "girls' bathroom," Max's attention shifted as she reached to each of her (Dana's?) pockets. She nearly cut off Dana, asking, "Wait- ugh, sorry, where's my phone? And my camera?"

"I don't know about the camera," Kate said as she grabbed the phone from Dana's desk and handed it to Max, "But here you go!" She barely noticed the newly cracked screen, instead focusing on her notifications.

_Wowsers… so don't want to deal with this right now…_

[ **5:42 A.M., Tuesday, October 8, 2013** ]  
[Voicemail box full]  
[11 unread text messages]  
[5 new calls]  
[4 unread emails]

"Kate, Dana – I need a favor. I should call my p-parents, but I don't want to repeat myself with everyone here. You know: I'm alive, I was there, I d-don't want to talk about it. Could you send out an update? I mean- just to whoever would actually care."

Exchanging another look, Kate and Dana both nodded. Kate replied "We'll let your other friends know. I don't think anyone would blame you if you're not up to talking about it."

_After everything Kate's been through… Even with Nathan arrested, she's got her own struggle right now. I...I don't deserve a friend like her. Maybe I shouldn't push her away – but I need to be alone._

Dana first looked down at the cracked screen, then out the window, and finally to Max. "Your parents, though. They already know. Madsen came looking for you not long after the… the shooting. He wasn't, you know, typical Madsen. He looked really worried, kind of  _lost_ , but he wasn't pushing anyone around. We told him you were with us, and he told us we needed to stay with you, watch for, well-."

"Please don't be mad, Max."

"I'm not, Kate. It's OK. I was knocked out, you were worried, I get it."

Dana replied, "We  _were_ worried. You're hurt, and you were just staring, not saying anything… I'm glad you're back with us, now. Madsen wanted to take you to the hospital. We promised after you woke up, we'd ask you to see the nurse and go talk to the police. Your parents heard about the shooting on Facebook or whatever. They knew that part before Madsen called them. They're on their way."

"Hmph." Max laid back down, letting her body sink into the pillows.

_At least I won't have to tell Vanessa the basics, I guess._

Kate's eyes brightened when she looked at the alarm clock on Dana's desk, exclaiming "Oh! Dining hall opens in an hour! Do either of you want to come with me? Or I could bring you something back?"

Dana shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm pretty tired. I've got that decoration committee meeting tomorrow, and I'm not prepared  _at all_. Coach said we could skip doing laps today, so- Kate, could I crash in your room for a few hours?"

_Come on Max… remember. She doesn't deserve to get kicked out. Don't be an asshole to your fr… well, to someone going out of her way for you. Need coffee anyway, and I can't imagine going to Two Whales right now. How can I even look Joyce in the eye after... nope. Nuh-uh. Not thinking about that. Dining hall's "desperately bland medium roast" will have to do._

"No, Dana, um… that's really sweet, but you don't have to. I'm going with Kate. Caffeine fix." Max sat up again, moving slowly as the aches and bruises caught up to her.

"Great! I'll come by at quarter-to. Dana, you OK to stay close to Max until then?" Kate picked her bag up from off of Dana's desk, placing the thin leather strap over her shoulder. She brushed off her pajama pants before walking towards the door.

"Of course." Dana nodded at Kate with a weak smile, lifting a hand over her own lips to cover a yawn.

"Wait – um – don't I get a say in this? I don't need a-"

"Max? We care about you. Yesterday was… intense. Something happened with you, and we don't have to figure it all out right now, but we don't think you should be alone just yet. If you really don't want Dana to stay with you, she won't. But I'm asking you. Please?" Kate was standing at the door, her hand placed expectantly on the doorknob. Their eyes briefly met, and before looking away, Max was moved by the concern and determination in her friend's eyes.

 _You're not wrong Kate. But do either of us think_ _**you** _ _should be alone just yet?_

"...OK." Max sighed and looked at Dana's bookcase just beyond the foot of the bed, avoiding both other girls' eyes. She could still feel them looking at her, could almost feel pity-fueled words like  _fragile_  and  _unstable_ and  _weak_  flash across their thoughts as they did.

 _Wish I could just tell them to leave me alone..._ even if _that doesn't end well for me. Why do they care, anyway?_

"Thank you, Max. You too, Dana. I'm off to get ready. See you soon!"

Kate closed the door behind her.

Max and Dana were alone.

They sat in silence.

Dana opened Max's water bottle and offered it to her, which she quietly accepted. They sipped in silence, Max staring at Dana's bookcase, and Dana looking thoughtfully in Max's direction.

 _Well this is awkward. And definitely not helping. What's the point? Dana barely knows anything about me. Dana babysitting me isn't going to make me remember what (else) happened after David left, or make me feel better, or bring Chloe back. Chloe… I should've- I mean, even if I didn't ask for-_ _**no.** _ _Not thinking about this now. Ugh! Please let me think about something else, anything else…_

Max's focus shifted to Dana's books. From where she was sitting, she could only see a few of them. She recognized a couple textbooks, and she could just make out Dr. Bill's name across the spine of a well-worn paperback. The title was difficult to make out at first, because the book was pushed all the way back on the shelf, nearly hidden by the larger texts.

 _How to Be a Great Baby Mama_ _. Wait… I've seen this before. Oh… Oh, wow. Dana. I_ really _shouldn't be mean. You've got your own problems, and you still stayed up all night for me?_

Max looked up, staring at the back of the bedroom door. Dana was tossing her now-empty water bottle into a small recycling bin.

 _And in this timeline, this reality, you don't know that I know. You don't know how fucking nosy I was. She was right. The other Max in my Nightmare. I wasted my power trying to say the 'right' thing, get people to like me, get_ you _to like me, but when I needed it mo- nonono_ _ **no**_ _Max. Not. Thinking. About. This. Now._

"Um, I'm going to get some stuff from my room. Are you, um, you coming?"

"Sure!" Dana looked relieved that Max finally said something. "Let's go."

Dana peeked out into the hall, then walked back to her bed and offered Max a hand. Max shook her head "no" and waved Dana off, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. With her uninjured right hand, Max pushed herself up to standing and steadied herself. As Dana gestured towards the door, Max tossed her own empty bottle into the bin and silently walked out ahead of her.

 

* * *

 A dull ache pulled at the center of Max's chest when she stepped through the door of her dorm room, sliding her room key back into her right pocket.

_Who was this...this shy cliché hipster-geek?_

Her eyes scanned to her left, noting the vinyl records and band posters on the walls. Her guitar, with its ambiguous butterfly-slash-flower pattern on the sound board, rested against the futon. Looking straight ahead –  _really? A_ book _poster?_ And there, in the corner- a certain tall, leafy friend.

 _Well, at least in this reality – if it_ is _even real- Lisa's still alive. Can't save Chloe. But you've got a shot- uhm, a_ chance _, to keep a damn plant alive. Real Everyday Hero._

Max didn't notice when Dana finally nudged into the room, closed the door, and sat on her futon. She quietly watched Max, who was frowning and making self-critical little  _pssssh!_ sounds as she watered Lisa and looked around the room.

Max paused before a Seattle era Polaroid. She remembered the day two short years ago: during a Thunderbirds home game against the Raiders, a massive on-ice brawl broke out during the second half.  _It_ was  _kind of fun, though. And Pop was grinning the whole time!_

She focused on the photo, trying to remember the frigid air in the ShoWare Center, the taste of overpriced hot cocoa, and his voice shouting above the arena's din. She focused intently, longing to remember how her photo-jump power even worked. When she couldn't traverse time and space with the hockey photo, she tried instead to rejoin Kristen and Fernando at the Fremont Troll – to no avail.

Minutes later, Max was still standing in her dorm room with Dana nervously watching her stare down old photos.

 _This can't be it. My powers_ can't _be gone and I can't be stuck...stuck_ here _. I'm probably just tired. Right? I'll...I'll try again later._

She slowly shifted her gaze away from the Seattle photos.

Max knew what was coming, to her right. She was lingering on each poster, each piece of furniture, each robot panda knickknack, each decision some naive and unrecognizable version of her made a thousand years ago about how to express herself in her own space.

It felt wrong to be here, as she knew it would.

It felt like someone else's room, as she knew it would.

 _Someone a lot more...ugh, a lot more_ innocent.  _No. Not going to think about him. Forget all this, Max. Can't deal with this today. Just get what you came here for. Clothes, shoes, shower caddy, towel. Just focus and-_

She caught her eyes starting to drift to the right. There were, at least, no threats painted in blood on the wall or disturbing Photoshop creations on her bed. But the tightness gripped her chest all the same. The Max Caulfield Photo Memorial Wall, with a few instant photos of blonde-haired 14-year-old Chloe in the mix, drew her in.

Chloe's eyes, staring back at her.

Chloe's eyes, rolling back in her head.

Chloe's eyes, darting in panic, screaming for help on the train tracks.

Chloe's eyes, wide with shock, bullet-pierced skull falling, falling, beneath the fading double moon.

Chloe's eyes, overflowing with tears, drenched and shouting her sacrifice over the howling wind.

_I feel… nothing._

The tightness in Max's chest was overwhelming, and she was gasping for breath. She did not cry or scream. She couldn't, right then.

"Max? Max, are you OK?"

Dana anxiously rose from the futon and approached Max as she heard her gasping and saw her eyes glaze over, unfocused, losing all semblance of emotion. Blank. Empty.  _Gone._

"Max! MAX! Please, what's going on? What can I do?"

In measured, almost mechanical steps, Max left her room and returned to Dana's. She sat on the futon, staring silently ahead, through and beyond the Blackwell Otters team photo on the opposite wall.

* * *

" _And I'll never see your face again_  
_Until I'm walking with the dead_  
_So will you swear you'll meet me then?_  
_Oh, then_

 _And I, now I have to face the end_  
_But could you let me just pretend?_  
_Could you let me just pretend?_ "

Koethe, "[Better Then](https://youtu.be/apr60Dh0BXE)"

* * *

 "Max? Stay with me, girl. Is there someone I should call, or…?" Dana had followed, closing the door to Max's room behind her. She sat next to Max on the futon, but remembering Kate's attempt to hug her, made sure not to touch her without asking. Worried eyes bouncing back and forth between Max and the small screen, Dana quietly began typing out an urgent text on her phone.

_She's gone. And I guess so are my powers? So I can't go back._

_William, Rachel, Chloe.. I had a chance to_ fix _all this and I...I..._

_And I feel nothing._

_Nothing but this tightness in my chest. Nothing but I-need-to-get-out-right-NOW. Nothing but what the hell happened to my hand? And my best friend? And my powers? And my life?_

_But this can't be real. It_ can't _be. I'm going to wake up with her by my side. I have to._

_Until then you've got to get it together, Caulfield. We're not gonna think about this. We can't. You're freaking Dana out. Focus. Shower, then coffee. There's nothing else to think about._

_Shower. Coffee._

"Too soon." Max gestured vaguely to the right- towards her room.

Dana nodded sympathetically, tapping "SEND" and putting her phone aside.

"That's OK, Max. I mean, it makes sense. I, um, I know how it feels to have something...kinda  _grab_  you like that? Like a bad memory?" Dana's eyes drifted towards her bookcase. Sadness still lingered in her expression when she turned back to Max. "I could go back and get the stuff. If that's OK? If you tell me what to grab, I'll go."

"Thanks. The shower carrier thing, near the door. Make up bag. Phone charger. And some clothes" Max felt a warmth rise to her cheeks at the thought of Dana, well anyone, looking through her clothes. "I...could you just grab whatever?"

Before Dana could answer, someone began knocking on Dana's door. Max jumped a little in her seat, startled by the sound. Dana asked her, "It's just Kate – that OK?", and Max rapidly nodded.

Dana opened the door and Kate walked in, a towel draped over her shoulders. As her eyes started to focus again, it took Max a moment to even recognize Kate with her hair down.

"You got my text?" Dana asked, standing in the doorway.

"Mm-hmm. Thanks! Max, is it OK if I stay here with you for a sec?" Kate joined Max, sitting on the side of the futon Dana had just vacated.

"I...um, what time is it? The dining hall isn't…?" Max's breathing started to slow down and even out, but she still felt a little... _off._  She blinked and rubbed her chest, though the ache was already easing away. "Yea. Um, yeah Kate. Th-thanks."

Dana disappeared into the hallway.

Max and Kate were alone.

Over the next several minutes, Kate shared a few cute stories about Alice. Apparently her bunny wasn't used to Kate being away overnight, and was anxiously shaking in the corner of the cage when her human came in. But after some soothing words and a few minutes of Kate's undivided attention, she hopped around happily a bit and relaxed.

"She's probably upset that I left again, but I know she'll be OK. She's so attached to her schedule!"

Most days, Max had a soft spot for cute animals. And cute animal videos. And photos. And memes. And .gifs. Anyway. Today, she couldn't bring herself to squee, awww, or react to the story.

Max quietly listened and nodded.

Kate's voice trailed off.

For a long minute, the two girls sat silently.

Max looked first to the swim team photo, then out the window, and Kate followed her gaze. Outside, the morning twilight had turned the sky from black to deep blue, but the lamp posts were still lit. The sun was not yet up- and neither, apparently, were the squirrels.

A loud gurgle from Max's stomach broke the silence, making Max blush and Kate giggle.

"Almost breakfast time." Kate said.

"Yeah. I never had breakfast there. I usually, um," Max paused.

_No. Not thinking about it. Shower. Coffee. Dining hall coffee._

"...sleep in. Um, is it gonna be crowded?"

"Don't worry, Max. It's quiet there most mornings, and today… I mean, any day there's no classes, it's almost empty." Kate moved to place a hand on Max's shoulder, but quickly withdrew, remembering how tense Max became when she'd tried to hug her. Max didn't seem to notice.

Dana softly knocked before coming back in, shower caddy in hand, towel and clothes draped over one arm.

"Hey."

She set the caddy down on the low table, and laid out the clothes on the bed. Max's jaw dropped a little and her heart..um, mood, sank as she recognized the outfit.

Gray zip-up hoodie. Blue jeans. White T-shirt with a doe.

_Life is...surreal._

"I need to dry my hair and get ready, but I'll be back soon. Promise!" Kate said, straightening her skirt before walking out the door.

Dana tilted her head to the side and asked "Max, is this OK? I just, you know, I tried to get something I thought you'd like and I see you wearing this outfit like all the time so I figured..."

_Don't be an ass. Not her fault the universe keeps trolling you._

"No, no. It's… thank you for doing that, Dana. Really." A hint of the 'old' Max's kindness and gratitude crept through her otherwise flat voice, and Dana smiled.

"Sure thing, Max. We're here for you."

Max nodded and gathered her shower gear, grabbing the caddy handle as she made her way closer to the door.

"Th-thanks."

Max peeked out the door, relieved to see no one was in the hallway. Closing Dana's door behind her, she hurried into the girls' bathroom, making a beeline for the nearest shower stall.

 

* * *

  _Shower and coffee. Low bar, I guess. But even more reason not to fail. Shower and coffee._

 _Good thing it's empty here today,_ Max thought to herself as she closed the shower stall curtain behind her. No one to tease her, no well-meaning questions or offers of condolence.  _Finally alone._

There, in the stall's slightly warped mineral-coated mirror, her own hollow eyes stared back at her. A quarter-sized purplish blue splotch was mostly obscured by her hair on the left side.

Max felt a pulsing ache just above her left temple, and another across the outside of her left hand, but the sensation was distant- like the moment before realizing an anesthetic will soon wear off.

A layer of numbness covering a much greater pain.

_Stay focused. Shower, and coffee._

Averting her eyes away from her injuries, Max placed her right hand on the big knob controlling the temperature and water pressure.

Most days, first thirty seconds of any shower in the dorms was devoted to getting the temperature just right. A smidge to the left, and it felt scalding hot. The tiniest nudge to the right, and it was an Arctic blast of frigid spray. Though she liked the faster escape route, when it came to water temperature, the stall closest to the door was the worst culprit. Most days.

But on this day, Max realized she could barely feel the water against her skin as she gently, hesitantly lathered up. She knew from the rising steam that it must be pretty hot, but she hadn't gone through her daily routine of carefully calibrating the knob.

She pushed the knob a bit further to the left. Then a bit more. Somewhere inside her, she knew this was too far and she'd probably scald herself. She knew it was too hot. But she couldn't feel it.

_Is my spidey sense for danger broken, or do I just not care?_

_Either way… I don't feel anything, and it's getting weird._

The bathroom door swung open, and after a moment, Dana's voice called out to her. "Max? You OK in there?"

"Yeah...um, yeah, thanks."

Dana let out a relieved sigh and closed the door.

 _Guess they're_ really  _worried about leaving me alone._

_Yeahhh... They're not wrong._

Max turned the shower knob far to the right. The steam stopped rising, gooseflesh spread across her skin as the remaining suds rinsed away. After a while, she found she was shivering, and her teeth began to chatter. She couldn't feel the cold, not the way she used to, not the way she knew she should.

No matter. She was done in the shower, and didn't want to keep Kate waiting. She pulled the knob to stop the water, toweled off, and pulled on her clothes. She stopped shivering.

Just as Max was about to open the stall curtain to leave, the bathroom door opened, and two sets of heeled shoes echoed against the tile. When the footsteps stopped, Max heard water splashing against a sink basin.

"Vic, what gives? After what we saw yesterday you just, like, ghosted? I sent like a million texts!"

"What are you, my mommy? A creepy stalker? Not cool, T."

"I was  _worried._  I'm your  _friend_. Is that so wrong?"

"Fine. Whatever. I was upset, OK? Like really fucking losing it. And I had… I had places to be."

"Still. Everyone in the Vortex kept asking. You couldn't send one  _freakin'_  text?"

_Shit. Victoria and Taylor._

Max felt an ominous sense of déjà vu, eavesdropping from the shower stall.

 _If they say one fucking thing about Kate or that_ video _, I swear...I_ won't _just hide away. Never again._

As the hand dryer roared on, the jarring sound drowned out Max's sharp gasp while her heart skipped a beat. When it turned back off, the girls resumed their conversation. Taylor's voice was still filled with concern, but her frustration had drained away.

"Vic… look, just. Are you OK?"

" _Nothing_  is OK!" Victoria's voice was getting shaky, her pitch rising with each word.

"I know. I'm sorry. If you need to talk-" Before Taylor could continue, a torrent of words rushed past Victoria's lips.

"He's my  _friend_ , Sweet T. We're  _close_. You know. And-and I was calling and calling and his fucking mom wouldn't  _fucking_  pick up so I go to the police and they won't tell me shit- not where he is, not how to reach him, nothing. I tried to tell them he's got-" though still nearly shouting, she tried to lower her voice, "he's got  _medication_. And maybe it's BS but you can't just  _cut_  a person  _off_  like that that's fucking dangerous and they won't even- _rrrgggh!_ "

"Vic, girl, breathe. I'm here." Aside from the sound of the two girls' slow, deep, deliberate breaths, the bathroom was quiet again.

_I don't need to hear this right now. Don't want to think about this. At least they're not talking shit about Kate. I should open this curtain and walk out and–_

_Ugh. Max. Still full-on chickenshit._

"Thanks, T. I  _am_  sorry I didn't check in. It's just… I don't even know. He finally called a couple hours ago. Who knew my smartphone could even  _get_  collect calls?" Victoria let out a joyless, ironic laugh. "He was crying. I could barely hear him and their phones are  _shit_  so it kept cutting out. He said they only let him call after they were done with questioning. Which was, like,  _all_   _day?_  His dad fucking disowned him- said he's 'dead to him' now. He's got court tomorrow, like for bail or whatever, public defender will be there. Wouldn't let me get him a lawyer. He...he confessed, anyway..." Max heard Victoria sniffling, as if she were crying, but tried to ignore this.

"Aren't public defenders lawy-"

"Really, Taylor?  _Now?_  Yes. Technically. But if the closest friend you've got- and don't be jelly- if your  _closest_  friend needs help and he's gone and fucking  _killed_  someone, are you gonna put his fate in the hands of someone with two thousand other cases?"

 _Tough luck for the other "two thousand." Not her problem, I guess? And, um, she's all broken up over_ him _but not a word about… about who he_ killed _?_

_A+ priorities, Victoria. Brava._

Victoria drew a pained breath, and let out a deep sigh before continuing. "I just… I'm a teenager at an art school. I'm only here to become a photographer and get famous. I'm not perfect! This shit is too real, and I don't know what to even  _do_  now."

"Like, wow, Victoria. I don't know what to say. We'll figure it out. But later this week?  _We_  deserve some curfew cocktails!"

Victoria laughed, and Max heard only the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice. "We do. After the last thing he said? Bartender, make it a Long Island iced tea- stat!" She snapped her fingers half-heartedly.

"You  _know_  I'm game… but, Vic. Um, what did you mean? 'The last thing he said?'" Both of her classmates sounded offbeat to Max, now. Their typical Mean-Girls-gossip cadence felt hollow, forced. More than usual.

A tense silence held for a couple seconds before Victoria responded in a quiet, sober voice.

"He told me, 'Stay away from  _him_. Promise me. OK? He's  _evil_ , you don't even know, no one knows. But you will soon.' He said something  _extra_  fucked up was going on in this town, and him and Mark and others were involved, but he was really vague about it."

Another memory, another voice, from another timeline, pushed its way into her consciousness, loudly crowding out Victoria's words and Max's other thoughts. She could feel the steering wheel in her hands, hear the tires against wet pavement, the swish of the wipers, the rain pelting the car's windows and roof. She heard a familiar voice, anxious and broken but sincere:

" _Max, it's...it's Nathan. I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel or… didn't want to hurt anybody. Everybody..._ used _me! Mr. Jefferson...is coming for me now. All of this shit will be over soon. Watch out, Max. He wants to hurt you next. Sorry."_

Her mind jumped to an empty red binder. Then, to a confused and terrified Victoria, bound on the floor of…that place.

Max's wrists twitched.

Her chest felt hollow.

Everything felt hollow.

_I may not have powers or visions anymore. But I see therapy in your future, Caulfield._

_I hope Victoria follows the warning._

_Shower. And coffee._

Max silently tried to shake it off and return her focus to the conversation.

Victoria breathed in sharply, a mix of concern and frustration in her words. "Then he freaked out, said the phones were tapped and he couldn't say more. It wasn't  _safe._ "

"Here, Vic." As Taylor comforted her friend, heels briefly  _clak_ - _clak_ 'd against tile, echoing off the stalls, and her words became muffled. Max couldn't see, but assumed, they were hugging. "That's so intense. I'm sorry."

More  _clak_ - _claks_. Victoria replied, "It's all so fucking weird, T. I don't know  _what_  to think about his fucking cryptic warning… he was so worried, but, like. He needs  _help_. I don't know. I still want to be there for him. Like maybe I could've done something, helped him somehow? But it's too late and, you know, I'm so  _pissed_  at him for what he did. I told him."

"We all used to joke about 'a real friend would help you bury the body,' you know, that edgelord shit. But this? This is  _serious._  We  _saw_ that...that girl. All that blood, and glass everywhere? You can't  _unsee_  shit like that. No wonder you were losing it."

_Guess Kate was right. She said they "found" me in the bathroom after… after what happened. But what does she mean by "glass everywhere"? Yeah, no, can't think about that right now._

Taylor continued, "I don't think  _anyone_  would really know what to do in your…situation. Except, maybe..." She added, in mischievous, teasing tone, "check your fucking texts, girl!"

"You are the  _worst_!" Victoria cleared her throat, and tapped her finger a couple times against the sink. "It's over for now, anyway. And  _I_ need to relax! Time for a smoke break. You coming?" Three, four heel  _claks_  echoed, moving closer to the door.

"Actually, Victoria… I can't." The mischief was gone as quickly as it came, and Taylor's voice grew quiet.

"Do  _not_  tell me you're a quitter? In it to win it, T." The heels scraped against ceramic, as Victoria turned around to face Taylor.

"No, of  _course_  not. How could you even think-?  _No_ , Vic. I'm leaving campus for a couple days, that's all. Gotta leave, like, now."

"'Leaving'? What's going on? After what  _I_  just spilled? You know you can tell me anything."

"Vic, it's...ugh. I just. It's my  _mom_ , OK? There was an accident. Some bullshit with ABPD speeding down Main yesterday afternoon. She's back in the hospital. I only  _just_  heard and  _no one's_  there with her and after last time, well,  _you_ know. You were there. I've got to go. That's why I'm even  _up_  on our surprise-day-off. I've got to see her." Max could hear Taylor's voice waver, as if struggling to hold back tears.

_Oh no… Taylor. You're mean as hell sometimes, but still. I hope your mom will be OK._

"Oh my God- Sweet T. I'm so sorry. Do you want me to come with?"

"No, no. Thanks, but… we don't even know, like, how serious it is? Just that she's there."

"You  _sure_  you don't want me to drive? At least on the way back? The roads are supposed to be hell tonight, and the way you drive…? Just being honest, T! Look at the forecast!" For the first time that morning, Victoria Chase sounded like her old, condescending self- at least, as Max had known her.

For a few long seconds, the ache in Max's chest returned, and she could feel her heart beating faster.

 _Wait, what? It can't be… they didn't even see That Storm on any forecast. They had no warning. It's not even Friday. And- the whole point of – the Storm is_ not _coming. It's not. It can't be._

Taylor sighed through her teeth, lightly banging her palm against the sink in frustration.

"Victoria. No. I'll be fine."

"OK. Just, you know, putting it out there." Victoria's tone softened. "You know it's because I  _care_ , right? And I've  _always_  got your back. At least let me walk you to the car."

 _Clak-clak_ ,  _clak-clak_ ,  _clak-clak_. The door swung open and closed again, the heeled footsteps trailing down the hallway. Max waited a few more seconds. Then, she grabbed her clothes and the caddy with a wince, opened the stall curtain, and left the bathroom.

 

* * *

  _I...did I really hear all of that? The police station, Taylor's mom, a forecast? I can't even, right now._

_Shower? Check. Coffee? Let's go._

Before she reached Dana's room, Kate's door opened, and the blonde called out to her.

"Max! Perfect timing: the dining hall just opened! Are you ready?"

 _Everyone's already gonna stare at me because of yesterday. Next to the bruises and whatever the hell the Blackwell gossip mill heard about...about_ what happened _, going to breakfast with wet hair won't draw that much attention..._

"Uh, sure, Kate. Just need a sec to put this down."

"I think Dana fell asleep, but you can put it in my room! Alice won't mind."

After a quick stop in Kate's room, Max and Kate left the Prescott dorm together.

 

* * *

Shafts of hazy, golden early morning light poured into the Blackwell Academy dining hall from high windows spaced evenly across its outside wall. As she waited in line at the self-serve station for hot beverages, Max absently watched dust particles dance through the windows' warm glow.

Any other morning, the serene beauty of it might have moved her to inspiration or nostalgic reverie. She'd frame her shot, map out just the right angle-

Then again, any other morning, she'd be asleep at this hour.

Safe in bed.

Watched over by Polaroids.

And her beloved Partner-in-Time would still be alive.

Max rubbed her eyes before refilling her coffee thermos, struggling to maneuver the spigot and thermos with her swollen hand. Her fingers carried her through the motions, turning the spigot off, opening and pouring the creamer, twisting the thermos's cap back on.

Success!: the coffee was good-to-go.

Her eyes fixed on the back wall as she walked across the dining hall.

She could hear her own footsteps. The absence of crowded mealtime ruckus was unsettling. No conversations shouted across tables, no peals of laughter, no masses of voices echoing against walls and ceiling.

No desperate urge to flee back to her room.

OK- a  _less_  desperate urge to flee back to… back to the dorms.

The other dozen-or-so bleary-eyed students in the dining hall congregated in twos or threes. Without the room's typical background noise, voices carried, combining into an unavoidable chorus of idle chatter:

"Yeah, my parents are freaking out! They think everyone here's packing, or something. I'm like,  _please_ , it's an art school!"

"You  _still_  haven't watched that video? Trust me, man, church mouse has a  _wild_  side!"

"That power-tripping rent-a-cop? I heard he was crying like a baby. Isn't that, like, the first sign of the apocalypse?"

"Hope they reopen the girls' room soon...Who cares about the mirror? There's like half a dozen of 'em still intact, just use those!"

Max felt a dull yet uncomfortable ache in her jaw, and realized she'd been clenching it as she picked up her pace, speedwalking across the dining hall. As each voice layered over the others in her mind, she quickly closed the distance to her table.

"...got me out of a test, at least! What? Oh, come on. I didn't mean… ugh! What's your deal? No one even  _knows_  that girl. She got expelled last Winter!"

"That guy always freaked me out. Dude took some seriously creepy photos."

"It's scary. I don't know, I mean, it could've been any of us. It could've been me. You know? I was on my way there but I went back to my locker and- I don't even want to think about it."

"Well, Courtney's uncle's fiance is a cop and she said that  _he_  said the victim was-"

The ache in Max's jaw was matched by a tightness in her chest. Her mind and eyes urgently conspired to find something else, anything else, to focus on.

_Swim team, probably. Who else would get breakfast at the dining hall when class is cancelled? …and who gets exercise this early in the morning, anyway? Voluntarily?_

Max finally claimed her seat at a small table in the back corner, opposite the door. It already felt like Kate was taking forever to get back from the bathroom. She'd mentioned something about the closest bathroom being cordoned off, and long lines for the temporarily accessible bathroom in the nurse's office.

_No telling when she'll be back…_

Max laid her phone on the table, gingerly swiping and tapping to open the messenger app. Scrolling past her other texts, Max tapped on the bearded profile image labeled "Dad" and began to read her recent messages.

[From: Dad]

[Maxine. Pop here. I'm sorry I haven't gotten in touch sooner. We heard there are reports of gunshots at Blackwell and we are very concerned. Is it true? Are you OK? You don't have to talk about it. Just let us know you got our message. Love, Pop.]

[Honey, I know mom is melting your phone. She's just worried. Please reply. Love, Pop.]

[We just talked to Mr. Madsen. This wasn't your fault. Some things are just out of our control.]  
[Your mom and I want you to see the nurse as soon as possible.]  
[We are coming to Arcadia Bay. Leave first thing in the morning. I know you're upset but your mother and I think you should come home, at least for now. See you soon. Love, Pop.]

[Good morning, Maxine. On our way. Love, Pop.]

Max looked up from the screen, scanning the room. Kate was still nowhere to be seen. So far as she could tell, nobody was looking at her. She drew a slow, intentional breath, and took a sip of the thoroughly uninspiring coffee from her thermos.

_Half a dozen texts in 24 hours? That's got to be a record for Dad. Dana was right… guess they're just a few hours away, now. After all this, what do I even say to them? I'm not the same person they dropped off five weeks ago… At least it will be good to see Dad. Probably._

Tapping the blank text box on her screen, Max began to carefully type out her response:

[To: Dad]

[Thanks Dad. I'm OK. School breakfast, then ABPD. I'll call after. Love you.]

Two checkmarks: sent, and received.

Max briefly fiddled with the phone settings, setting the ringer to "silent" before flipping it face-down on the table. The act left her wounded hand idly resting on the table, where she could not resist looking at it. She quietly assessed the damage again: bruising and swelling, but no broken skin.

_How the hell did this happen?_

_What did I do?_

Searching for another distraction, Max's focus turned to a table just ahead, her eyes resting on an unmistakably familiar, perfectly coiffed undercut. The student sat with his back to her, casually reading and scrolling on his phone. A high-end digital camera sat on the table in front of him, near the window, lens cap on. As her eyes rested on it, a chill ran up Max's spine. She took another sip from her thermos and tried to shake off the feeling.

He's _definitely not on the swim team. Golden hour, maybe?_

"Thanks, Evan. I know it's super early and all, but after yesterday...well, I appreciate the company." Luke said, flashing a broad smile as he laid down two empty plates and a tray piled high with pancakes, boiled eggs, toast, and fruit. Max almost didn't recognize him without a black ball cap covering his hair, which was now dripping wet.

"Glad you asked." Evan hesitated a second before adding, "I set up some exquisite shots in the courtyard while you were in there taking chlorine laps in your Speedo." Max imagined, but couldn't confirm, the corners of Evan's lips curving into a subtly playful smile- though she'd never actually seen him smile. She heard a gentle clank and scrape of utensils against plates.

"Tease away, photo boy. You're just mad you didn't get to watch!" Luke laughed and winked at Evan before digging into his stack of pancakes.

 _Oh…? Did_ not _see that coming. At least they're not talking shit about Kate, or spreading gossip, like everyone else_ _here._

Grateful for the momentary escape from both the Blackwell rumor mill and her own thoughts, Max continued casually eavesdropping.

"Speaking of watching," Evan asked in a hopeful, almost singsong tone, "What's going on with your medical clearance for the season? Inquiring minds want to know!"

"Let me get back to you? For now, if you want a free show, all you gotta do is ask." Luke checked to make sure no one else was watching him, then fluttered his eyes at Evan, who gently pushed the swimmer's shoulder with his free hand.

"You are too much! Seriously though. You sure you're OK? Your texts had me worried." Evan leaned forward slightly in his chair, placing his phone off to the side – alongside the pricey camera – and transferring several pieces of fresh fruit onto his plate.

"I'm all right now. Coach always says, whatever's bothering you, swim a few laps and see if you feel any different. Endorphins!" Luke tapped his forehead twice with his index finger, a tired smile fading quickly as he continued, "I was just messed up about yesterday. Prescott? You know I hate that guy. Even after what he did, the Beacon still used his freshman yearbook photo! No front page mugshots for Prince Prescott, right? Whole family shoulda been run out of town a long time ago. Maybe then she'd-"

"She'd  _what_ , Luke? You stopped talking." Evan laughed nervously, poking at the fruit with his fork.

"It's nothing, I… it's just. I can't believe she's gone. I'll be fine, really." Luke pointedly stacked several bits of pancake on his fork, biting all of it off at once, as if to prove his point.

"I'm sorry, Luke. Since you weren't around when- I mean. I didn't think you knew her?" Luke offered a noncommittal hum through his full mouth, while Evan continued, shaking his head. "She could be… uncouth. But it's hard to see such intelligence just, gone."

As her classmates continued talking, pieces of a once-joyful memory began playing in Max's mind:

" _Stop being so goddamn humble. You're like the smartest, most talented person I've ever known."_

" _Don't look so sad. I'm never leaving you."_

Max felt everything inside her closing up, locking down again. She would stay empty. Under no circumstances would she start bawling here in the dining hall. She would resist letting the pain in at all costs.

_Can't risk remembering what it was like when we were together. It will only hurt more._

Max stared blankly down at her table, sipping her coffee, ignoring Luke and Evan, listening to nothing. Even the sensation of piping-hot coffee passing over her tongue felt bizarre: half-numb and distant. She kept on sipping anyhow, mostly for the caffeine, and to prevent spacing out (again).

Kate finally returned to the table, quietly walking up to Max. "Hey, I hope you weren't waiting long. I'm going up to get some food. Want anything?"

"I'm good. Um, thanks."

_She's your friend, Max. She stayed up all night looking after you. Worried about you. And she's going through so much right now...Don't be an ass to your friends._

"Are you sure?" Kate nodded slightly, gesturing behind her towards the food stations on the opposite wall, "They've got the waffle maker out today, you know."

_She's trying. So what if you don't deserve kindness? Or waffles? Still. Be a friend. That's what Max-freaking-Caulfield would do._

"Y-yea, um, OK. I'll come get a waffle." As Max moved her chair back to get up, Kate shook her head and waved one hand dismissively.

"Oh Max, no..." Kate glanced at Max's hand, more lines of concern spreading across her forehead. "Let me get it, OK? I'll be right back."

Max quietly nodded, moving her hands under the table. Out of sight.

A wave of relief spread across the blonde's face as she turned and began to walk back across the room.

Max was alone.

She stared down at the table's surface, pushing herself to focus.

_Shower? Check._

_Coffee? Check._

She slowly raised the thermos to her lips for another sip.

_So what now? Breakfast, then the police station?_

Max took a deep breath, followed by a few more.

She wasn't going to try to sort her feelings, wherever they'd wandered off to.

Not right now. Too much danger down that road.

Part of her longed for answers. To be completely honest—ha! since when?- she didn't really even trust this reality yet. She couldn't. Even after the failed photo jumps, she still feared, and hoped, that any moment the edges of her vision would fade to red, that she'd somehow wake up in a different time and place. Again.

Max needed the fastest, most direct path from this moment, to actual alone time. Quiet. Seclusion. Space. Away from concerned glances, and questions, and decisions.

She needed to get through the day, and look OK-enough, that everyone would stop worrying.

 ***Clunk!** *

Max's eyes went wide and she jumped in her chair as the tray abruptly hit the table. The air suddenly felt charged with electric tension, which danced uncomfortably across the skin of her arms and legs. Her body trembled and she drew quick, panicked breaths while Kate cautiously sat down across from her.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Max. I...I thought you heard me coming… are you OK?" Kate's soft voice and her hands were both shaky. She turned to look over her shoulder every few seconds.

"Um, it's OK. It's OK. I'm OK. I'll be fine," the words poured rapidly from Max's lips, "I uh, yea. I just. I just need a moment. Its fine. Th-thanks again."

As she finished attempting to reassure Kate, Max's attention shifted first to the plate of syrup-covered waffles, then to Kate's wet and puffy eyes. As she tried to slow her breathing and steady her hands, her gears started turning.

_It's the day after...after the "Daguerrian process" lecture. It's Tuesday._

_The day of the rooftop._

_Oh, no…._ _**no.** _

_It does_ not  _have to end that way._

_I will not let anyone else die!_

Struggling to keep her attention focused on Kate, Max took three deep, deliberate breaths and tore a large piece of waffle off with her fork. She held it hovering above the plate while she asked in the friendliest tone she could muster, "What about  _you_ , Kate? You seem a little upset. Um, is everything OK?"

As soon as the question was out, she bit off the entire mass of waffle. Disappointment washed over her as she realized that, much like the coffee, she couldn't really taste it. Or the syrup. Or the butter. Nothing.

_Ugh. This...whateverthehellthisis, is getting old fast._

Kate's sorrowful eyes met Max's for a moment before the blonde looked away.

"It's nothing. I mean, I don't even know…" Kate paused, lowering her voice, "It's about that  _video_. When I got up, they were, well..." Kate sighed, dabbing a napkin at the corner of her right eye. "They were talking about it. Did you watch it, Max?"

Max took another sip of her half-empty thermos and replied, "No. And I won't."

"Thank you, Max. Do you know how humiliating this is for me?" Kate looked over her shoulder again, searching the room for gawkers and snickerers, before bringing a spoonful of yogurt and granola to her lips.

"I know this sucks, Kate, but… tell me about the video and maybe I can help." Struck with intense déjà vu, Max felt her stomach turn and suddenly laid her fork and knife down on the waffle plate.

Hazel eyes met once again with ocean blue, searching silently for what felt like a full minute. Kate opened and closed her mouth twice without saying a word, then drew a long, weary breath.

Finally, Kate replied, "Basically, I went to one Vortex Club party and ended up making out with a bunch of people… and I have no memory of it..."

Max remembered every word this conversation from the first time they'd had it. Mere hours afterwards, she'd stood on the roof of the Prescott dorm in the pouring rain, desperately replaying it over and over in her mind – searching for some hint or fact that might coax her friend back from the edge. That might keep Kate alive.

And she'd failed.

Kate was pushing bits of granola around a nearly-empty bowl of yogurt with her spoon, as Max quietly shook her head.

_I don't have to repeat it all again, though. I don't have to repeat the cycle._

_If this is even real..._

_Fate, or the gods, or whoever – they already took what they wanted from me._

_I won't let them have Kate!_

_But what the hell do I even say?_

_What can anyone say?_

"That's awful, Kate. I'm sorry. If...um, if you want to say more about it, I'm here, OK? I care and I want to listen." Max quietly tapped her feet under her chair, looking across the table as a frown spread across her friend's gentle face. "…But you don't have to. Don't, um, don't have to say anything if you're not comfortable. OK?"

Kate let go of her spoon and pushed her empty bowl away, glancing over her shoulder again before looking directly into Max's eyes. Clear, gleaming tears were quickly pooling in her own as she whispered, "I want to tell you. But..." she paused, and Max held her breath, leaning in to be sure she could hear.

"...With what you're going through… are you sure? I mean, it means so much to me that you'd even offer! Really! But, are you sure you want to hear about my problems at a time like this?"

Without a second thought, Max nodded. "Oh, Kate, of course. I'm your friend. I'm here for you! Don't even worry about that." Seeing Kate's doubtful expression, Max added, "OK, think of it this way. I'm here for you,  _and_ , I  _really_ don't want to think about" Max sighed, "about what happened yesterday. I  _need_  something else to focus on. So, trust me, it's really OK."

Max made her best impression of a warm, encouraging smile, suddenly eager to convince Kate that she was ready, willing, and  _totally_ emotionally prepared to listen.

Kate nodded, apparently satisfied. Her shoulders loosened and dropped, an immense weight lifting from them. Her tears flowed freely now, cascading in wet, wobbly trails down her cheeks, splashing against the table on impact. Max carefully raised her right hand, napkin in tow, to wipe away her friend's tears.

"Thank you, Max," Kate said, still speaking just above a whisper. She politely moved Max's hand off after a moment or two, though a second wave of tears swelled as she began telling Max her story.

As she confided in Max about the night of the Vortex Club party, Kate urged her friend to continue eating her breakfast. Max couldn't deny that her head felt just the slightest bit clearer, more awake, after the meal. Her floodgates finally opening, Kate recounted more details as they finished eating, put up their trays, and began walking back towards Kate's dorm room.

* * *

 " _A girl that I never noticed asked me to hold this_  
_A secret too hard to tell and I never will_

 _For a moment I feel the coldness_  
_Of everything that's been taken away_  
_I put the phone back in the cradle_  
_I can't make this okay_

 _The damage she'll survive_  
_But damn the sacrifice of_  
_Every life we've lost_

 _Damn all the costs of the assault_  
_Damn all the costs of the assault_ "

Amy Ray, "[Pennies on the Track](https://open.spotify.com/track/12uCHYgf2jknd7SXmWS1bD)"

* * *

As they entered Kate's room, she continued telling Max what she remembered about the party and its aftermath as she set to work feeding her bunny, Alice. Max tried her best not to stare or react to the towel covering the mirror or the closed blinds hiding away the morning sun. Instead, she listened intently, offering careful hugs and supportive comments here and there.

She already knew many of the details about Kate's drink, the video, Nathan offering to "help," the needle prick –  _no absolutely_ not  _focusing on that right now –_ and waking up outside her room. But this time, Max was not here to investigate or interrogate. Kate needed someone to be there for her, she needed a friend, and Max… well, Max could try.

 _Kate deserves a_ better _friend, no doubt. But I'm here. I can try._

"...and after, um, after  _what happened_  yesterday, Nathan's been arrested, and I just don't know what to think." Kate sat on her bed and watched Alice nibble her food as she continued, "I… I want to know what really happened to me. I  _need_  to know. And, Max, that video?" Her voice rose with anxious inflection, "Do you know how to take down a viral video?"

Max solemnly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kate."

"It's just been so hard. Everyone at Blackwell knows, and they won't leave me alone. My mom, my aunt, the people at church… They think I let them down, they think I let  _God_ down-" Kate began sobbing heavily, her cheeks one again wet with tears.

Max sat down next to Kate. motioning to wrap her arm around her friend's shaky shoulders, but not yet touching her. Raising her voice slightly to speak over her friend's sorrowful wailing, Max gestured towards her arm as she asked, "Is this OK?"

"Of course," she whispered with a nod.

Max could feel tension leaving the blonde's slight frame as she gently lowered her arm into place, subtly adjusting for comfort.

"You didn't let anyone down, Kate. And you didn't do  _anything_  to deserve all this. OK? You don't deserve this." As her tears flowed freely, Kate leaned into Max for support, resting her head against Max's chest and dabbing at her tired eyes with a hand-sewn handkerchief.

The brunette's freckled cheeks were dry. She knew she should feel something right then. Her friend was suffering, it was terrible and fucking unfair what happened to her. And Max had been through- well, she didn't need to think about that right now.

She felt like she was watching the conversation from a distance. Floating above it all. She was there, she was paying attention, she  _did_  care – but she wasn't  _all there_. She hoped Kate wouldn't notice.

"Thanks. I mean. On my good days, I know you're right? That I don't… I don't de-" the word seemed to get caught in Kate's throat, and she quickly abandoned the attempt.

 _Oh, Kate… I probably couldn't say that about myself, either. Difference is, you actually_ do  _deserve better. So much better._

"...But even then I don't know how to face them all. I don't know what happened to me, Max. I can't remember… do you have any idea how it feels? All these people are saying...saying I  _wanted_ that. You heard them in the dining hall, didn't you? And I've got nothing to say to them, because  _I can't remember!_ "

_Yes. I know what it's like to live through some horrible shit that you can't remember..._

Before her wrists could fully relive the gripping, raw, immobilizing sensation of duct tape against skin, Max forced the memory down.

_I'm here for Kate. This is about her, not me._

So Max sat quietly holding her friend, trying to find the right words to comfort her. Or really, any words that wouldn't make it all worse. Eventually, the dull pain in Max's hand led her to gently break contact and stand up. Kate leaned forward, rested her forearms on her thighs, and hung her head. By now, Alice had finished her food and retreated to the back corner of her cage.

"Kate, you've gone through so much. But you're  _not_  alone. You're never alone. I'm here for you, and your other friends here too, and just-" Max paused, worried that she would sound as distant as she felt.

 _What if she thinks I don't see how much she's hurting?_   _I know Chl- um, people, think "you're not alone" is a cruel lie. I feel that way sometimes_ _too…after Seattle, after yesterday? I know all about feeling alone._ _I've got to show her she actually does have someone to turn to, someone she can trust._

Kate now held her head in her hands, crying softly. Max began gathering pillows that were strewn across the room, and placing them neatly at the head of the bed.  _"_ I know it doesn't always feel like it, but there are so many people who care about you and want to help. I don't have all the answers. But I'm here. And we'll figure it out together, OK?"

"Mm-mmm." An affirmative hum rose up from somewhere under the tousled bun of blonde hair.

Kate slowly sat back up, turning to see Max placing the last of the pillows.

"Max, do you think… should I come with you to the police station? I could… I could talk to them. And maybe they could investigate?"

Max leaned back against the bedroom door, trying not to get lost along any of the paths her mind began wandering down.  _The day you_ dropped to your death _in the other timeline… so many things I wished I could say, and now I can… Is it enough?…What if none of this is real – will I wake to a reality where you're… you're…_ Max had to do something, say something, to stay focused.

"If you want go together, I mean, that would be great! Just, um. Are you sure you want to do it  _today?_ After staying up all night? It's up to you but, I promise, if you just rest today and go in another time, I'll come with you."

Just as Max finished, Kate said with a lilt of relief in her tone, "You'd do that? Oh you're the best Max! And you're right. I should rest."

Max quietly winced at the compliment, grateful that Kate didn't seem to notice.

_Definitely not the best, Kate. I'm the opposite of best._

_Best at creating death and destruction._

_Best at… ugh. Pay attention, Max._

Kate rose from the bed and walked to her chest of drawers, quickly pulling out a pair of pajama pants and a Bible camp T-shirt.

Max averted her eyes. She knew the time was coming for her to let Kate rest, but something was nagging at the back of her mind. She knew the answers Kate didn't have, the ones she longed for and that might break her.

_But should I tell her?_

_Would it do her any good to know about the Dar- ehm. About what happened to her? And how do I explain how I know all that?_

_I can't. And after last night, Kate deserves some peaceful rest._

_Before I go, I've got to make sure she'll be OK._

"Kate, can I ask you about something?"

"Of course, Max." Kate finished changing her clothes and returned to the bed, resting her back against the neat pile of pillows, pulling sheets and comforter over her legs, and covering her mouth through a yawn. "What is it?"

"Yesterday, in Jefferson's class? I, um… I saw your notebook. A-and I'm sorry to be so nosy..." Out of habit, Max reached her right hand across her chest and held her arm. She looked directly into her friend's hazel eyes and continued, "...but I saw what you were drawing, and… I know you're going through so much. Just, um. Are you  _OK?_ "

Kate's face fell, but she held Max's gaze for several seconds before looking towards the window. The sketched image of a noose, the scrawled words "SO LONELY" and "WASTE," lingered in both of their minds.

Solemn, quiet words drifted across the space between them, slowly at first, "It's been so hard, Max. With that video, and Mr. Madsen following me around, and how gross I felt when I woke up the day after the party," her whole body shuddered with the memory, "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a nightmare and I can't wake up. I haven't had anyone to talk to about it all- I mean, until now." Kate looked from the window back to Max and continued, "I didn't think anyone would believe me. I'm...I'm sorry you had to see that. But, sketching out what I'm feeling helps me hold on sometimes. Even if, if it's drawing something that… that's painful to look at."

Max nodded, struggling to stay present, to deserve her friend's trust. "Oh, Kate...I think I know what you mean, though? We don't all have to be 'tortured artists' but I think it's really kind of brave to make art when you're hurting. I'm glad it helped you get through this. And... I'll never judge you for what you draw, OK?"

Max closed her eyes and drew a deep, uncertain breath, calling to mind half-slept-through school assemblies and awareness pamphlets. Opening them again, the words she knew she needed to say haltingly tumbled out, "I-I, um. I care about you, and I've been worried. I have to ask… are you going to, um. Are you… are you th-thinking about hurting yourself?"

Kate paused, her mouth hanging slightly open, stunned and vulnerable.

Max had discovered a whole new depth of awkwardness, and she could hear her own heart pounding. The screeching sound of a record scratching, then brakes squealing against train tracks, filled her mind- alarm bells sounding off in pure anxiety over breaking this basic social rule. She longed for her Rewind power right then, and briefly considered running out the door, out of town, out of state, as far as humanly possible from this moment.

_I shouldn't have done that… She has enough people prying into her life. She already feels like a spectacle. I bet she'll never talk to me again! I should just leave before I make it any w-_

"No. Not… not anymore." Kate's barely audible reply cut through Max's ruminations as their eyes met once again. Kate breathed a hard-won sigh of relief. As she continued, her body slowly sunk back into the pillows. "I...I think about it sometimes. After what happened last week… sometimes I just don't know how long I can... Just, Max, please don't worry about me? OK? I already feel so much better talking to you. And right now, I'm just going to get some sleep."

"You're so sweet, Kate. Thank you for telling me this. Taking a nap sounds  _so good_ right now!" Max paused, her thoughts racing as she tried to keep her voice calm.

_What if this is the only second chance I'll get, to say what I couldn't on that roof? I can't screw this up! Please, please don't let me fail again, lose her again..._

Max continued, struggling to keep her voice even, sincere, and upbeat despite the aching numbness that still surrounded her, "I'm so sorry you've been- that you- you've been hurting so much. But you'll get through this.  _We_  will. Just, please text me when you get up? I just… we could talk about some plans, maybe? To get you more support?" Kate nodded, the edges of her lips curving up into a faint smile. "I'm so sorry you had no one to talk to before… but you do now, OK? I'm here, and I believe you."

Kate opened her arms, gesturing for Max to come closer, and sharing another careful hug.

"Oh, Max. Thank you so much for listening to all this… I feel so blessed, for the first time this week." Tears glistened once again at the corners of her eyes as Kate covered her mouth through a long, exhausted yawn.

"Of course, Kate. Thank  _you_  for being here for me, too. One last thing- is it OK if I talk to Dana, maybe a couple of your other friends, about what you told me?" Kate thought for a moment and quietly nodded.

As they said their goodbyes-for-now, Max tucked Kate in – instigating a brief fit of sleepy giggling – and turned out the light. As she moved back into the hallway, closing the door behind her, she breathed her own sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 "STOP! Miss Caulfield!"

Max jumped several inches straight into the air, startled by the gruff command, and held her breath as she turned to face its source. David Madsen was rapidly advancing across Blackwell's manicured lawn, ignoring the paved pathways as he closed the space between them. Max's eyes widened as she focused first on the empty holster on his hip, then on each empty hand. Finally breathing again, she looked past him to the bus stop, careful not to look him in the eye, and tried to push her all-too-recent memories to the back of her mind.

_No gun. You're OK. You're safe. There's no gun, Max. He has no gun. You're OK._

David cleared his throat and stopped directly in front of her. "Miss Caulfield? Didn't mean to scare you, missy. We need to talk."

Max's hands trembled, her head nodding too quickly, causing the dull ache in the left side of her head to return. She took one last, longing look at the bus stop before taking a seat on a nearby bench. David followed closeby, his presence startling the squirrels under the bench and sending them scurrying up the bark of the nearest tree.

 _You've got the right idea, squirrels_.

"I'm sorry you had to see-" he paused, swallowing hard, "had to see that yesterday. And I'm sorry for-" he continued, through clenched teeth "-for what I did. Wasn't right."

A tense silence held for several long seconds. Looking around the disturbingly quiet quad, Max realized that there were no Bigfoots tossing footballs, no faculty members rushing to or from the parking lot, no students sketching or reading under the mid-morning sun.

Max and David were alone.

Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning for exit paths, as the muscles in her legs, shoulders, and jaw tightened.  _Can't outrun him. I'd have to-_

"At ease," he finally continued, "Principal Wells and the ABPD believe Mr. Prescott is responsible for the property damage in the restroom. Not you."

" _What?_ " Max's head snapped up, shielding her eyes with one hand as she peered up at the mustachioed face towering above her. Instead of the tense, wide-eyed shock she'd seen the previous day –  _was it really just yesterday? -_ heavy, dark bags hung under reddened eyes.

"You won't be charged," he said, as if offering an explanation. His words came slowly and without expression, as if reading from a script. "Your belongings are in Property, at the station. They need to take your statement."

"I...what d-damage? What are you..." Max shook her head as her voice trailed off.

"I can take you." David lifted his chin towards the parking lot, gesturing to the security guard's parking space. Max's eyes followed, and she let out a sudden gasp at what they found: a familiar, beat-up pick-up truck with a "TWN PKS" tag.

"Dav- um, Mr. Madsen, I… st-students are not allowed to...?" Max's mind went insistently blank as she pulled her eyes away from the vehicle and rose from the bench, taking a few steps in the direction of the bus stop.

"Technically, I am susp- I'm off-duty. But that doesn't matter. It's up to you." David stood still, absently scratching at the stubble that covered his jaw. As he continued speaking, his regretful voice nearly broke. "I just want you to know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He drew a deep breath, but before Max could reply, he firmly added, "Get that hand looked at, OK, missy? Now go on."

David turned and walked to the parking lot in quick, rigid steps while Max rapidly retreated to her bus stop. As she waited, Max pulled her cell phone and earbuds from her pocket, tapped the shuffle icon, and let the music drown out the turning engine, the squealing tires, and the distant ache at the center of her chest.

As the bus pulled into the parking lot and approached the stop, Max gazed down at the screen:

[Marine Girls – [On My Mind](https://youtu.be/wvtaL8dbMpM)]

Some days, "Shuffle" seemed eerily tuned to her feelings. Or  _lack_  of feelings.

As the bus came to a stop and opened its doors, Max looked down once again at her bruised hand and replayed David's words.

_I still can't remember what happened, how I hurt my hand._

' _You won't be charged?' What did I do?_

The bus driver called out to her impatiently, "Miss, if you're coming, please board the vehicle."

_Am I going to the police to give them a witness statement about Nathan… or to turn myself in?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (And extra super douple-dip thanks, with sprinkles on top, to "my" beta readers!1!) Since this is my first fanfic, I would be very grateful for any constructive feedback you can offer.
> 
> At the very beginning, the slur "psycho" is used in dialogue. I am personally extremely uncomfortable with this term, because it is disparaging to people with psychiatric disabilities. Despite this, I left it in because it is a direct quote from game dialogue, and I felt strongly about starting the fic there, but that word will not appear again.
> 
> Final note for now- These are only Max's first reactions, and later chapters will see her emotional state change.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Take good care, and (hopefully) see you next time for Chapter 2: No Return – Part 2 ! :)
> 
> Acronyms & jargon:
> 
> ABPD = Arcadia Bay Police Department  
> B.A.S. = Blackwell Academy Security. I made this one up.  
> D.O.A. = Dead On Arrival.  
> Phys. Ed. = Physical Education, a.k.a. gym class. Pronounced "fizz ed."  
> P.A. System = Public Address system  
> PJs = pajamas


	2. No Return, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solstice Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2OVeQFH  
> Content notes: physical violence (non-graphic), smoking, mental health struggle / extreme emotional states. Mention of police, sexual assault, death, suicide, school shootings.

 “ _I smashed a camera  
I want to know why  
To my eye, deciding  
Which lies I’ve been hiding  
Which echoes belong  
  
I’m counting on  
A heart I know by heart  
To walk me through this war  
Memories distort  
  
__Phone my family, tell them I’m lost  
On the sidewalk  
And, no, it’s not OK_”  
  
Wilco, [Kamera](https://youtu.be/LgZ6KwwiefY)  
  


* * *

  
Max floated high above the police station, watching cars pass with a satisfying disinterest.  
  
The midday sun glared almost accusingly, reflected from windshields and the station’s glass doors.  
  
She’d first drifted out of her body just before the policewoman took her statement.  
  
Much easier to answer her questions that way, from a safe distance.  
  
Much easier to lie that way, too.  
  
The bored and distracted cop had explained the process. Max’s lips moved, her voice deftly deflected questions about a broken mirror, a smashed camera, a cracked paper towel dispenser, and a stall door off its hinges. Calmly, patiently, without expression, her words crafted a tale of splashing water on her face, following a butterfly, hiding out in fear… and “it all happened so fast,” and “that’s all I remember.” If she’d stayed in her body, there’s no way she could’ve said words like “Chloe” and “Nathan” and “gunshot” and “blood” altogether, without shattering into a thousand jagged, glistening shards, there at the officer’s desk in the ABPD bullpen.  
  
It was an ideal time for learning to escape herself.  
  
The officer said, “That will be all.” There was already a confession in this case, and it probably wouldn’t go to trial. _So this entire ordeal was pointless?_ , she’d thought, but quietly let it drop.  
  
Before she left, her hand was examined, then her hair pulled aside to look at the smaller bruise on her head, and both were photographed. She refused to go to the hospital, but accepted a single-use ice pack and dose of Aleve. After signing a form, a plastic Property bag containing severely damaged camera parts was returned to her. When it was over, her legs had carried her back outside, where they crouched to sit on the curb.  
  
Max couldn’t deny that Arcadia Bay was actually kind of beautiful, viewed from above. All early Autumn treetops and shoreline, cute seaside shops and quaint two-story homes, the postcard-perfect lighthouse tall and majestic and completely intact. Even Blackwell Academy had its appeal from up here, its venerable brick buildings and well-kept athletic fields suddenly full of promise and pre-collegiate charm. As if to complete the picture, a locomotive pulled a long series of freight cars northward along gently winding, rusty red tracks.  
  
From her altitude, Max could easily observe the comings and goings of a wondrous [murmuration of starlings](https://youtu.be/XV9wOTqOQw0). She focused, a sense of awe nearly piercing her heart’s newly-forming defenses as she watched thousands of tiny birds flying together in close coordination, painting ever-shifting patterns across the sky.  
  
_How amazing is that? I wish I could share this with- well… I bet none of those little birdies ever feels alone. Birds are so lucky...I wonder what it’s like to know you’re part of something, to feel so connected, to-  
  
__***POP! POP-OP!*  
  
**_As a nearby police cruiser’s exhaust loudly backfired, Max came crashing back down to earth. Her head snapped up with a start, her body suddenly jolted to awareness as she remained seated on the curb, now hugging her knees. Her heart was pounding inside her chest, her eyes wide and darting back and forth across the small parking lot of the police station, even after she’d identified the source of the sudden noise.  
  
_Just a car, Max. You’re OK. It’s just a car. Justicar. Ha! You’re OK Max. Still punny. Gonna be OK.  
  
_Max tried to slow her breathing while repeating mental assurances and reorienting herself to life on the ground. Soon, she noticed the anxious rush of activity around her. Four pairs of uniformed adults had hurried out of the glass doors to her right, each making a beeline across the lot for their respective vehicles. By now, blue-black smoke billowed from the tailpipe of the first cruiser to pull out, its siren already wailing and lights flashing as it turned onto the road. She heard the engine turning on a second cruiser, while directly in front of Max, four cops were just arriving at their cars.  
  
“...Plate T - P - F - T - H - L - K. Suspect has entered the structure. No line of sight. We need backup at coordinates-” Max could not hear the rest of the radio message as two sets of car doors slammed shut, a sudden gasp escaping her lips at the sound.  
  
_Ugh! It’s fine. You’re fine. Just cars. Just cars. Now what… what am I still doing here?  
  
_The remaining three cruisers started, mercifully, without any loud smoky exhaust recoil. Each peeled out of the lot, lights and sirens on, following the first and disappearing down the road.  
  
Max was thankful to be alone.  
  
_Shower, check. Coffee, check. Witness statement, um, check? Check.  
  
_With her trip into the sky already disappearing to the back of her mind, Max stood and carefully brushed herself off with her right hand before leaning back against the wall of the station. From this vantage point, she searched the parking lot, sidewalk, and nearest buildings for any approaching strangers or vehicles. Seeing none, her eyes rested on the plastic bag with its handle looped over her wrist. The jagged edges of myriad broken parts tore tiny holes in it from within.  
  
“ _My camera has officially taken a shit,”_ she thought to herself.  
  
_I_ still _can’t fix this thing_ _.  
  
__Now, there’s no one here to give me her dad’s classic_ _instamatic_ _.  
  
__Am I destined to lose everything – every_ one _– that matters to me?  
  
_Placing the Property bag down by her feet with a heavy sigh, she once again pushed aside memories from another world. Feeling a _buzz_ from her phone’s vibration, she pulled it out and opened the Messenger app.  
  
[From: Stella]  
[To: Max, Dana, Alyssa]  
  
[oh no… i had no idea! haven’t talked to Kate since teh party.]  
[we’ve got to do something! next study break, i’ll check on her. ty for telling me.]  
[p.s. has she talked to Ms. Hilde?]  
[p.p.s. Max i’m really glad u r OK. talk soon?]  
  
[From: Alyssa]  
[To: Max]  
  
[This pisses me off!!! Immature Vortex Club assholes just push people til they break!]  
[I’m glad you don’t just go along Max.]  
[Kate never told me if she likes sci-fi but Warren said you do. Maybe we could all watch something?]  
  
Max read each message twice, quietly trying to separate what she was “supposed” to know about each of her classmates from what she’d learned in other timelines. As she prepared her reply, another set of fragmented memories slipped past her defenses and flashed across her mind.  
  
_No, Kate didn’t say anything about the school counselor. Did she? And Stella… between seeing your name in Frank’s logbook, and what you said in my Nightmare… if that was even real… it feels like_ everyone _at Blackwell has their own problems. I hope it was OK to text you. But we_ can’t _lose Kate. We’ve got_ _to help her, somehow.  
  
_[From: Max]  
[To: Stella, Alyssa, Dana]  
  
[Thank you. Kate really needs our support. Don’t think she talked to anyone.]  
[Dana and Kate are both sleeping. Let me know when they’re up?]  
[And yes let’s all talk soon!]  
  
Two checkmarks, sent and received.  
  
“Oh!” Max exclaimed, nearly dropping the phone as a familiar black Prius pulled up directly in front of her. Just as the engine cut off, the driver’s side door flung open, and a beaming bearded figure in a plaid red button-up shirt quickly climbed out. Though her expression remained mostly flat, Max’s eyes brightened slightly as she approached him, her soft voice hinting at relief when she stated as much as asked: “Dad?”  
  
“I’m here, honey. Your Pop’s here.” Ryan Caulfield wrapped both arms around his daughter, pulling her in close as she returned the hug, careful not to put pressure on her hand. _Missed you, Dad… feels like it’s been forever,_ Max thought as he held her and kissed the top of her head, barely noticing that the passenger side door had opened as well.  
  
_If you knew what I’ve done… you’d be so disappointed, Dad. You wouldn’t even want to_ look _at me. I wish we could just go back, to before any of th-  
  
_“Oh _this_ is unbelievable. Maxine, let me look at your hand!” As Vanessa Caulfield approached, sunlight glinted off the reflective silver bands of her dark blue windbreaker. Max reluctantly pulled away from her dad’s warm embrace. Her mother immediately gestured for Max to present her injured hand while pulling her own long brown hair into a low ponytail.  
  
Max frowned and thought to herself, _never Maxine...and ugh_ _, can you not?,_ as her mother leaned down for a closer look and began firing off a barrage of questions about the injury. “Can you wiggle your fingers? ...Good. How far can you close your fist, without feeling pain? ...OK, now-”  
  
“Nessa, I know we’re both worried. But you’re off-duty, dear. Why don’t we get some food before we go into ‘20 questions?’ Two Whales, anyone?” An easy, deep baritone laugh followed as Max's dad casually picked up the Property bag from where she left it by the wall.  
  
_No, please, anywhere else…_  
  
“Maybe not, dear, but I _am_ her mother, and we need to take this seriously.” A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she raised her hands in mock surrender. Max backed away, while her dad returned to the car to hold a door open first for his daughter, then his wife.  
  
Moments later, the Caulfields were all securely buckled into the black Prius, which turned out of the police station parking lot and onto the road. Just before Max put her earphones back in – a tune-out gesture both parents were all too familiar with by now – her dad teasingly joked that "I never expected to pick my daughter up at the ABPD – but at least I didn’t have to pay bail!”  
  
“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Pop.”  


* * *

  
As the Caulfields entered the Two Whales, Max’s parents took in the familiar scent of coffee and greasy, delicious diner food, while adjusting to the clamor of television, jukebox, and clinking silverware mixed together. Although walking through its doors usually brought Max comfort, this time she immediately sensed something – some _one_ – was missing. Aside from a few regulars, the diner was nearly empty, and the weekday lull made Joyce’s absence even more apparent. In her place stood an unfamiliar forty-something woman with short curly black hair, wearing a blue uniform and white apron tied at the waist.  
  
_This isn’t right… she isn’t Joyce. Where_ is _Joyce? Maybe we should just go…  
  
_While Max stood staring at the stranger behind the counter, her mother excused herself to the bathroom, a tote slung over one shoulder with the words “King County Medic One” emblazoned on the side. Ryan Caulfield gestured for Max to choose a booth, then approached the waitress and began making small talk.  
  
_Missed my chance for a quick escape.  
  
_A sudden _buzz_ and vibration pulled Max back out of her thoughts. Holding out her phone to look down at the cracked screen, Max quietly read the message:  
  
[From: Luke]  
  
[Heyo, Max. Meant to say hi at breakfast. Glad you’re OK]  
[When can I give your Art of Sci notes back? Thx for letting me borrow btw!]  
  
_What…? Class notes? That feels like a lifetime ago… The Max I used to be, his classmate, what would she write back? How would she respond?  
  
_[To: Luke]  
  
[It’s OK, you were “distracted”!]  
[Back in an hour or two. I’ll come find you.]  
[Then you can tell me all about him! (^_^)]  
  
Two checkmarks, sent and received.  
  
Lifting her eyes up, Max rested them on the second booth from the far corner of the diner _._ Before any unwanted memories could form, she shook her head, causing a dull ache as she turned away from the booths. She craned her head up to watch the small flatscreen TV as she waited for her parents, quietly hoping they might take the booth decision out of her hands. The newscaster’s voice resounded through the tinny speakers:  
  
“Welcome back to the new KBAY7 News! Coming up: severe thunderstorms expected tonight from Arcadia Bay to Beaver Creek. In local news, the latest on the tragic shooting at Blackwell Academy, believed to be the eighteenth school shooting in the U.S. this year. Despite the arrest of alleged gunman Nathan Prescott, son of local businessman and philanthropist Sean Prescott, sources say the Pan Estates expansion will continue. In national news, the government shutdown has dragged into its second week. Student activists at several colleges and universities demand that campus sexual assault investigations continue despite...”  
  
Max heard a loud, disapproving sigh from behind her, and turned to face her father as she heard the _click_ of the remote control. The waitress had changed the channel, apparently entranced as the new voices emanating from the set enthusiastically discussed renovating a house.  
  
“Always something… and they call themselves a news program! Anyway. Why don’t we find a seat?” he said, walking ahead of Max to the booth in the far corner – away from the television.  
  
Max followed along behind him until she reached the second booth from the corner, pausing to run her fingers along the equation etched in white across the table’s corner. Her attempts to keep her memories at bay were futile, her gaze fixed on the spot across the table where her best friend once sat, the blue-haired punk’s momentary fear turning to amazement and glee upon first witnessing Max’s powers in action.  
  
_“Amazeballs! I literally just got chills all over my neck …”_  
  
Back then – _this morning, in the other timeline –_ everything felt new, intense, confusing, exciting, and _alive_ , from her powers to her rekindled and rapidly growing crush on her best friend. They were back together, setting sail on their next adventure! And anything was possible, so long as they had each other.  
  
_Turns out I’m not the “goddamn Time Master.” Never was.  
  
And I let her down, again._  
  
A lump formed in Max’s throat at the thought, her lip quivering as she hung her head. She turned to the jukebox to rescue her thoughts from straying any farther down that sorrowful path, and to help hide her sullen expression until it passed. The song sounded familiar, so she took a quick look at the machine’s display to confirm her recognition before sliding into a seat at the corner booth.  


* * *

“ _You’re talking to yourself  
You don’t hear a thing  
And all history unfolds before you  
  
But you shut your eyes  
But you shut your eyes  
It’s not happening_”  
  
The Be Good Tanyas – [It’s Not Happening](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZKFoMq3GaA)  
  


* * *

Max's dad waited patiently in the seat opposite Max as she finished scooting in. Despite the circumstances surrouding this visit, he gave his daughter the same simple, encouraging nod and smile that had always put her at ease. As he began to calmly dive into one of several topics she'd hoped to avoid, his steady and supportive demeanor helped to keep her from drifting away.  
  
"I'm sorry about everything you went through yesterday, and about Chloe. I miss her, too," he said with a solemn, thoughtful expression as he leaned forward, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "How you holding out?"  
  
“I...I’ll be ok, I guess? It still doesn’t feel real.” She drew a lingering breath, putting off her response as she looked out the window to the gray sky above. _Whoa… careful there, Caulfield. Even Dad won’t believe you if you steer too close to the truth.  
  
_Turning back to him, Max continued, “I think, maybe, it hasn’t really hit me? So I’m just trying not to think about it.”  
  
“Well, when you do want to talk, your Pop’s here,” he replied, patting his chest with one hand. “I know this is hard. But you’re a Caulfield! We’re never down for the count. And you know Pop’s always in your corner.”  
  
Max rolled her eyes and curved her lips into a passable approximation of a smirk.  
  
With a good-natured wink, her dad concluded, “OK… end of lecture!”  
  
Before Max could respond, Vanessa Caulfield slid into the seat next to her husband, placing her tote bag under the table and unzipping her windbreaker. Without a word, she picked up three laminated menus from the pile on the table, and handed one each to her daughter and husband before closely examining her own.  
  
Max’s dad subtly tilted his head towards his wife while looking at Max, signaling the close of their brief father-daughter time. He whistled jokingly at the menu, chuckling to himself as he said “Would you look at that? Nothing’s changed but the prices!”  
  
“ _Ryan!_ ”, Vanessa whispered, shaking her head.  
  
Turning away from the TV, the waitress approached with a pot of coffee and introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Bootsie! Filling in for Joyce today. What can I get for ya?” She flashed a weary, practiced smile as she uncapped her pen and looked expectantly at Max.  
  
“Oh, thank you… um, I’m, um. N-not hungry. Just the c-coffee, please.” Max shrugged her right shoulder and stared down at the table as the waitress began filling the mug in front of her, steam rising as she poured.  
  
“Maxine, you really should-” her mother said with insistent worry in her voice, only to be cut off by her dad’s assertively casual voice.  
  
“We’re here to support her, not push her, dear. We talked about this.” Turning to Bootsie, he added, “I’ll have a Bigfoot Bacon Omelette and a coffee. Nessa?”  
  
“Oatmeal, sliced toast, and a glass of water, thank you,” her mother said curtly.  
  
The waitress poured her dad’s coffee, finished jotting down the order, and walked back behind the counter without another word. Max continued staring down at the table, sipping from the mug and listening indifferently to the jukebox as her parents exchanged tense, emphatic glances.  
  
After a few seconds, Max heard her mother’s voice reach across the table in a lighter, slightly more compassionate tone. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart, it really is. Your father and I, we both love you. That’s why it was so… so troubling to hear about all of this yesterday.” She paused, and Max reluctantly raised her head, meeting her mother’s gaze while still partly focusing on the music. “So, will you please let me take a look at your hand?”  
  
The song ended, and in the seconds before an instrumental banjo tune replaced it, Max looked to her dad. _Please, call her off? I can’t do this right now…_ But he simply nodded and gestured back towards her mother, quietly agreeing with her request. With a sigh, Max looked back to her mother, and offered her left hand for inspection.  
  
Max counted four different jukebox tunes before the most annoying physical exam of her life was over, an ordeal made nearly unbearable by Max’s unsettling feeling that the entire diner was staring at her. Her mother had started with carefully manipulating her hand while shifting into her “mama paramedic” voice to interrogate about “range of motion” and “pain levels.” Then, as the police had done earlier, she pulled aside Max’s hair to look at the bruise and bump, asking even more questions, and drawing even more attention.  
  
Thankfully, as Max’s mother returned to her own side of the booth, Bootsie arrived with coffee refills and her parents’ food, effectively ending the exam. Her dad immediately began digging into his omelette, and Max glanced over for a moment, quietly wishing she still had an appetite and could fully taste food. Before he noticed, she turned to her coffee, raised the mug with her right hand, and took another sip.  
  
_That was awful, but at least I get a couple quality cups of coffee out of the deal.  
  
_As the waitress walked away, Vanessa spoke up once again. “Swelling, bruising, no sign of broken bones, ligaments seem fine. An X-Ray wouldn’t hurt – if not today, how about when we get about to Seattle?”  
  
_No… I can’t go back now. I have to be here for Kate!  
  
_“Hmm.” Looking down at her hand, then back to her mother, she uttered a non-committal hum. _If I can convince her it’s not that serious,_ _maybe_ _I won’t have to leave?  
  
_Her mother spread Two Whales’ locally sourced jam on her toast as she continued, “But you might have a concussion. It’s hard to know for sure without tests. You said you didn’t lose consciousness?”  
  
“No,” Max quickly responded. _  
  
_“And you said no loss of memory? No confusion?” The anticipatory relief in her mother’s voice caused a fleeting tightness in Max’s chest, an ache deep within that she tried her best to ignore.  
  
“Yes. I already told you, it’s fine.” Max said before taking another sip of coffee, her eyes shifting from one parent to the other before resting on her mother. _Worst daughter ever,_ she thought to herself, feeling another distant pang of guilt.  
  
“That’s good, honey. That’s really good.” She paused to transfer one slice of toast onto an empty plate, sliding the plate across the table to Max before eating a few bites of her own slice. She sipped her water, wiping her mouth with a napkin before she carefully continued with the question Max had been dreading from that first moment at the police station, “It will help if I know a little more about the cause of the injuries. So… can you tell me what happened?”  
  
_Wish I knew…  
  
_Max grabbed a knife to butter her toast before taking a bite. As she ate, another wave of guilt washed over her. She longed to tell her dad everything: about yesterday, her injuries, other timelines, _that week_ , and how it all felt… or _used to_ feel. She wouldn’t even mind too much if Vanessa heard her story, but knew she’d never believe her.  
  
She couldn’t leave Kate, and they’d never understand why.  
  
Nonchalantly sliding her right hand back under the table as she finished the toast, Max pressed her thumb roughly into her thigh, trying to keep her mind from drifting any farther. _  
  
_“How it happened? It’s…it’s hard to talk about. I really don’t want to think about it. I’m fine, OK? Can we please talk about something else?” Max briefly met her mother’s eyes, then turned once again to her dad, who had placed his utensils down and was listening intently to the conversation.  
  
“I think that’s a fair request, Nessa. We’ll have more time to come back to this,” he said with a reassuring smile before wiping a bit of coffee from his mustache with his sleeve.  
  
Handing him a napkin, Max’s mother replied, “But without knowing more we can’t be sure about treatment. Plus, when we agreed to buy her that fancy camera, she _promised_ us she’d-” locking eyes with her husband as he slowly shook his head, she sighed, letting the sentence trail off before quietly adding, “You’re right, you’re right.” Picking up a spoon for the oatmeal, she conceded, “Some of this can wait. But we _do_ have to talk about what happens tomorrow.”  
  
“Tomorrow?” Max replied.  
  
The Caulfields fell into an uncomfortable silence as Bootsie returned with the check. “Hope to see ya back again soon!” she said with a nervous smile, taking empty plates with her as she quickly left. Max’s dad fished through his wallet, pulling out a credit card and cash for the tip.  
  
Vanessa sighed, sounding more tired than frustrated, “I take it you didn’t read your messages from Blackwell?”  
  
Max carefully shook her head. “From when?”  
  
“Student Support Services sent you a couple emails last week, and an urgent one yesterday,” Vanessa said before sipping her water.  
  
“No… Um, I guess I haven’t read them.” Max’s face fell as she asked, “How do you know about this? I’m eighteen, they aren’t supposed to-”  
  
“Sweetie, it’s not… please, they’re just trying to help. We all are,” her mother replied.  
  
_Bullshit. You had_ no _right to-  
  
_“You’re _not_ in trouble, Maxine,” her mother continued, interrupting her indignant thoughts. “You have an emergency I.E.P. meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning.” _Shit!_ “If you want, we can join you. They were already planning to check in about your grades and possible tutoring. With what happened yesterday... they want to talk about more options. It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”  
  
She paused. Max and her dad both sipped their coffee, Max setting her mug down roughly as she finished, her parents taken aback by the loud _clunk_ of mug hitting table. Undeterred, her mother continued in a sincere, direct tone.  
  
“They already offered to let you take leave for the rest of this week. Your father and I,” she held his hand above the table, both parents looking to Max with concern and sympathy, “want to take you home until the funeral Saturday. We can leave right after the meeting, if you want. What do you think, sweetie?”  
  
Still shivering inside from the word “funeral” echoing in her mind, Max looked down and mumbled, “I… um. I guess I- um, we, should do the meeting. Can I think about the other thing?”  
  
_I need a better plan, to convince you I should stay at Blackwell. For Kate.  
  
__I need...ugh. I need more_ time _.  
  
_“Of course, honey,” her dad said, both parents’ shoulders dropping with relief. “Try to rest tonight, and you let us know what you decide tomorrow.”  
  
For the remainder of their Two Whales visit, the Caulfields shifted to lighter topics. Her dad was pleased that the Thunderbirds’ season was starting off better than last year, and her mom said the new episodes of her favorite true crime show were improving with the new writing team. Grateful that she made it through their reunion, Max nodded along.  
  
_Glad_ that’s _over.  
  
Wish I didn’t have to lie in front of Dad.  
  
I don’t know… __if I shared more, maybe they could’ve helped? Even if_ she’s _the one asking._ _  
  
But how could I explain any of this, when it __makes no_ _sense to me?  
  
What would they say if they knew?  
  
_

* * *

“ _And I think oh, I don’t wanna let you down_  
_’Cause something inside has changed  
And maybe we don’t wanna stay the same  
  
__I got guns in my head and they won’t go  
Spirits in my head and they won’t go  
I got guns in my head and they won’t go  
Spirits in my head and they won’t go...”  
  
_The Strumbellas, [Spirits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9kXstb9FF4)  
  


* * *

As her dad’s black Prius pulled away, Max gazed blankly up at the Blackwell Academy classroom building directly ahead of her, the dark clouds overhead casting a forlorn shadow over the edifice. She bitterly remembered how she once felt about this school- how becoming a student seemed like such a long shot when she applied, how getting that acceptance text and scholarship felt like a dream come true. How returning to Arcadia Bay meant she’d have a chance to reconnect with-  
  
- _her when I had the chance._ _Ugh, I know I screwed up. It’s my fault._ _  
  
_As her mood soured, Max walked sluggishly up to the statue in the center of the courtyard.  
  
“The future needs excellence,” she read out loud with a scoff.  
  
_...if she can’t be part of it? Maybe the future needs to fuck off._ _  
  
_A vibration and jarring _buzz_ once again shifted her attention, and Max sat on the edge of the fountain as she opened the Messenger app.  
  
[From: Stella]  
[To: Max, Dana, Alyssa]  
  
[hey, letting u know, Kate is up. i’m with her.]  
[she asked about u Max. coming back soon?]  
  
_Oh, Kate… I so want to be alone, don’t want to deal with_ anything _right now. But I’ve got to make sure you’re OK. You really opened up to me. After everything I’ve seen… Even if I feel like shit, I’ll try to be a better friend.  
  
_[From: Max]  
[To: Stella, Alyssa, Dana]  
  
[Thank you. I just got back, walking to dorm now.]  
[Ask her if she wants to watch some sci-fi next week? As a group thing]  
[I’ll be up soon!]  
  
Two checkmarks, sent and received.  
  
Putting the phone away, Max got up from the fountain and walked along the paths, eyes down, shoulders hunched, carefully ignoring each lifesize photo from the exhibition as she made her way back to the Prescott girls’ dormitory.  
  
As her feet shuffled past the final bench and recycling bin before the dorm building’s entrance, a familiar, patronizing voice called out to her from below.  
  
“Well if it isn’t Max Caulfield, selfie ho of Blackwell?” Victoria sneered from where she sat alongside Courtney on the entry stairway, raising an eyebrow. As she looked up at Max, Victoria took a long drag from the cigarette confidently perched between her fingers before adding, “You should _really_ look where you’re going.”  
  
_Damn it. Are you this mean in every reality? Are we doing this shit again?  
  
_Stopping in front of the stairs, Max rolled her eyes and groaned, “I am _not_ in the mood for this. Just let me through.”  
  
Addressing Courtney, Victoria issued her command and shook off bits of ash from her smoke with an elegant flick of her wrist. “Give us some privacy, would you? There’s something the waif hipster needs to hear.”  
  
The Vortex Club member nodded, offering Max a disturbingly saccharine smile before looking back to Victoria. “Of course. I’ll send you-know-what in the morning, and text you if I hear from Taylor,” she replied before quickly standing, throwing out her cigarette butt, and walking into the dorm building.  
  
Max and Victoria were chillingly alone.  
  
“Are you cer-, um, serious right now?” Max sighed and zipped up her hoodie as the sky grew another shade darker from the gathering clouds.  
  
“ _I_ ain’t moving. We need to talk.” The blonde’s voice lost its domineering edge, a hint of sincerity just barely breaking through as she gracefully stood up, facing Max and continuing to block her path.

“We never ‘talk,’ Victoria. And I need to get inside.” With her suddenly close-up view, Max detected bags under Victoria’s red-tinted eyes despite a layer of skillfully applied concealer. Her pixie cut seemed just a bit flat – for once, a strand or two might actually be out of place.

Before Max could decide to react to Victoria’s appearance with sympathy or schadenfreude, the same disturbing memory from her lost week resurfaced for the second time that day: Victoria, vulnerable and terrified, lying helpless on the sterile white floor of that nightmarish bunker.

“ _...and I can’t move my hands! Help me, Max! Please. I’m sorry for everything.”_

She would have been safe, if Max hadn’t tried to warn her about Nathan, or if the brunette had just paid enough attention to realize there was an even greater danger they all needed protection from. Her attempt to save Victoria, had sent her directly into the clutches of Je- of that danger.

 _If this is real, will he try to hurt her in this timeline, too? I need to get back to Kate, but_ no one _deserves what he did to… to us. Maybe I could warn her?_

 _Ugh...But she has no reason to trust me. Plus, whenever I try to help or save someone, it goes horribly wrong. No matter what I choose, I only make things worse. Is there any point in trying?_  
  
Before Max could be swept into her own maelstrom of guilt, helplessness, and self-pity, Victoria impatiently snapped her fingers, demanding her attention. “Um, _hello_? I’m doing you a fucking favor. So _you_ need to hear me out.” As the light come back on in Max’s eyes, reflecting the burning ember of the taller girl’s cigarette, Victoria’s tone softened slightly. She continued with an almost pleading cadence, “You don’t _have_ to understand. Just listen.”  
  
Hearing a tenderness in her classmate’s voice that caught Max off-guard, she avoided eye contact, running her right index finger across her cheek out of habit, as if wiping away a fallen eyelash. Tucking both hands into the pockets of her hoodie with a wince, she replied, “Fine, I’m listening. Just… can you hurry? Someone’s waiting for me, and I bet you don’t want to get rained on.”  
  
Regarding her red sweater, Victoria thought out loud, “Water on my cashmere?” and shook her head, letting wisps of smoke escape the corner of her mouth as she blew. Finally, she looked directly into Max’s eyes and asked, “Do you remember seeing me yesterday?”  
  
“What are you talking about? In class?” Max drew a deep, cautious breath, uncomfortable maintaining eye contact with Victoria and already concerned about where this was going.  
  
“No, I mean in the bathroom, after Wells’ announcement. Do you remember?” Victoria gently reached her empty hand towards Max’s arm, but withdrew the gesture as Max stepped back and quickly shook her head. The shorter girl frowned and looked down, recalling what Kate had told her about the events she couldn’t remember, and what she’d overheard from Victoria and Taylor.

 _Please, not right now… Kate is waiting for me!  
  
_“We are _not_ having this conver-”  
  
“ _Yes_ we are,” Victoria said, stepping forward to once again close the distance between them, her voice a mix of concern and frustration. “ _I’m_ not carrying this around with me, and some of _your_ friends think you should hear this too.”  
  
“Victoria, you d-don’t understand. I’m _so_ not ready to-”  
  
Cutting her off again, Victoria continued, “After Wells’ announcement, Taylor and I found you in the girls’ room. It looked like a fucking _tornado_ blew through: broken glass and camera parts and…” Victoria’s voice began to shake, the rare and unsettling sound causing Max to look up and meet her eyes again as she continued. “...and blood, all over the floor. Stall door hanging loose, and your friend... You don’t remember _any_ of this?”  
  
_What the hell…?  
  
_“Dana and Kate told me what they know, but… there’s a lot I don’t remember.” Max could almost hear her heart pounding, unable to keep her mind from visualizing the scene. Yet tears still would not form. Out here, in front of their dorm building, Max felt a twisted sense of appreciation for the way these newly constructed walls around her heart anesthetized her from feeling, well, the way she ought to feel discussing the scene of a murder with the murderer’s best friend.  
  
Putting her cigarette out, and checking to make sure no one else was watching or listening, Victoria continued, “You were _screaming_ when we came in, beating on the wall with one hand, holding something close with your right.” As the blonde briefly demonstrated cradling the wrecked shell of an invisible camera in her right arm while pounding on an invisible wall with her left hand, Max finally surmised where the bruises on her hand came from.  
  
_Ugh… and I let_ Victoria, _of all people,_ _see me like this?  
  
_The dull ache in Max’s head and left hand began throbbing, a tightness tugging at the center of her chest as she tried to begin making sense of Victoria’s words. “Wait… screaming? What do you mean?”  
  
“More like shouting, I guess? You sounded _totally_ different so I didn’t understand most of it.” Victoria paused, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands along her own forearms as a chill passed through her, “Something about ‘destiny,’ ‘loved her,’ ‘go back,’ some apologizing and a _lot_ of swearing.”  
  
Max looked away, slowly shaking her aching head in disbelief. “Victoria, I… _fuck_. I d-don’t know what to say. D-did you try to stop me?”  
  
“We didn’t have the chance. Out of nowhere you just dropped, hit your head on the sink. You were lying there… Eyes open, silent, zoned out.” Victoria blinked several times and flicked both wrists out, seeming equally apologetic and at a loss. “I didn’t know what the hell to do! I thought maybe you just didn’t trust me, didn’t want my help, or whatever. So I sent out that text. We walked you out and up to Dana’s room. I think Kate didn’t want me around so-”  
  
“Can’t imagine why,” Max cut her off, suddenly reminded of Victoria’s role in tormenting her friend, and her own pressing need to check-in on her. “I bet you haven’t even taken the video down.”  
  
“Oh, my God. Max, this is _not_ the time for- _look_. I don’t know _who_ told you about that. But after everything that’s happened, _that_ shit is yesterday’s news. I don’t care. I’ll take it down.”  
  
“Good,” Max said, waiting a few moments afterwards to hear any hint of remorse. _Not in this reality, I guess,_ Max thought dejectedly as she added, “Will you leave her alone?”  
  
“ _Fine_ , Max. I said it’s over,” Victoria replied, tilting her wrist to check the time on her custom-engraved gold watch.  
  
“Victoria, why did you tell me all of this? I...I mean, I didn’t think you cared.”  
  
“You don’t think it’s possible that I just, like, _care_ about y- about another dedicated photography student? Underneath the bullshit?” Unsure what to do with _that_ , Max averted her eyes as Victoria continued. “I- it’s _complicated_. Everything that happened yesterday… it was _intense_ , and it made me think, OK? Like, maybe this all would’ve been different, if I’d just...” She let out a “hmph!” of frustration and regret, allowing the thought to trail off.  
  
_That was… unexpected. If I didn’t already have doubts about reality, I would now!  
  
_In subtle movements, Victoria brushed off her skirt, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin just so, starting to regain both her composure and her mask of superior self-assurance. “No, _you_ wouldn’t understand. Now it’s been a long fucking day and _I_ need some rest. _You’re welcome_. We’re done here.”  
  
_This could be my last chance to warn her.  
  
__I trust what she told me, so maybe she’ll trust me too?  
  
_As Victoria began turning around to go inside, Max called out, “Wait! Victoria, please!”  
  
“What do you want, Max?”  
  
“There’s something you need to hear, too.” Max drew a deep breath and quickly stated, “Mark J-Jefferson is _dangerous_ , and I think he wants to hurt you. Stay away from him if you can, and if not, just… be careful. _Please_.”  
  
Victoria’s hands balled into fists and her eyes narrowed as she glared at Max. Knowing she’d insulted her classmate’s idol and crush, her very reason for leaving the big city for Blackwell, the brunette braced herself for a verbal onslaught as Victoria opened her mouth to strike-  
  
But the attack never came. She suddenly stepped back, mouth closing, eyes opening, as her deflated voice replied, “Actually… Nathan told me the same thing. I don’t know _what_ the hell is going on, but I believe you.”  
  
“Thanks, Victoria,” Max said, disturbed to hear _that name_ but relieved that Victoria had listened. “And thanks for telling me… you know. What you saw.”  
  
“ _Au revoir_ ,” she said with a nod and a flourish, turning towards the dorm’s front door. As she walked up the remaining steps, she added, “...and Max? I’m sorry about your friend.”   
  
Max stood in silence, watching as the door closed behind Victoria, her words from throughout the conversation repeating in Max’s mind as she tried to make sense of what she’d heard.  
  
_The mirror, the door… I don’t remember any of that. David was gone. Nath- ugh. Nathan was gone. Did I really…? Could I? No. No way. I’ve never done anything like that. Why would I do that? And if I- if someone tore a bathroom apart they wouldn’t forget doing it. Right?  
  
_Max gently held her left hand in her right, looking closely at the bruises along one side.  
  
_“Beating on the wall with one hand”… and screaming? But that doesn’t mean- the rest of it couldn’t be me. And what if Victoria’s just messing with me? Just because I feel guilty and just because we had a moment or two of talking like… like actual fucking humans, doesn’t mean I can trust her. And after what she did to Kate? Which she doesn’t even feel sorry for? I bet she-  
  
_Suddenly, Max felt a **tap** on her shoulder and sensed someone close behind her.  
  
A flash of memory through her body: a pinprick to the neck, a gunshot in the dark. Always gunshots. Falling, falling, reaching out, calling out… the cold, menacing, face of the man she once looked up to as photographer, art teacher, mentor.  
  
Disorienting radio static began to fill her mind again, joined by shrill alarm bells.  
  
_He’s got me we are not safe NOT SAFE gun no escape no escape get his_ fucking hands _off me_ **now!  
  
**Terror from the night at the junkyard, those last moments of consciousness before waking in the Dark Room, filled her from head to toe as she felt herself beginning to turn around and face the threat.  
  
_I won’t let him hurt her NEEDLE no no no I have to have to GUN getawaygetawaygetaway get him away from me GETAWAYGETAWAY not again never again he won’t fucking-  
  
_She couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
She left her body again, floating just above the lampposts, watching the scene unfold.  
  
Though her powers were gone, time was moving in slow-motion- yet she was missing frames.  
  
In slow, distorted, unnaturally drawn out words, she heard a familiar voice calling out in shock, “Maaaaaax? What… the… fuuuuuck? Thaaaaaat… huuuuuuurt!”  
  
Next frame, her right hand pulling back from Luke’s face, his nose bloodied and his hand raising up to cradle his own jaw.  
  
Next frame, Max’s jaw dropping, staring in disbelief at her hands, as Luke walked away holding a notebook and shaking his head.  
  
Next frame, Dana was standing in front of her, cautiously waving a hand in front of her eyes while calling her name.  
  
“Max? Max? Are you okay? Come back to us, girl. Come on. _Breathe_. In, out. Come on...”  
  
_He’s not here. No needles. Dana’s here. It’s OK. I’m OK. Dana’s right here. I’ll be OK.  
  
_As she drifted back down into her body, Max found she was trembling uncontrollably. Her heart was racing, her breath uneven. Little freezing drops of rain were just beginning to fall around her, on her, demanding to be felt even through her protective shell of numbness. Tiny splashes on skin and brick, grass and concrete.  
  
_What...what just happened?  
  
_Not yet able to form words, she met Dana’s eyes and nodded weakly. Her classmate hooked an arm under Max’s own and around her back, supporting her as they both entered the dorm building and returned to Dana’s room.  


* * *

  
“‘What happened?’ You clocked Luke in the face, Max! Then we lost you again. I didn’t even think you knew him?” Though she tried to hide it, Dana seemed visibly shaken as she paced back and forth in her room.  
  
_I_ what?! _What’s wrong with me?  
  
_“No- I mean, we study together sometimes,” Max stammered, baffled and deeply troubled to learn she’d hurt her classmate. “I d-didn’t _want_ to hit him! It- I d-don’t even...”  
  
“Just… just try to relax. We’ll figure it out. Here,” she handed Max a washcloth and an ice pack she’d grabbed from the vending room refrigerator before they reached her room, “don’t put it directly on your skin, OK?”  
  
Max wrapped the washcloth around the icepack, carefully placing it on the knuckles of her right hand, which rested on the desk. So far she didn’t see any swelling, but she didn’t want to be rude to Dana, who was now anxiously moving Trevor’s jacket and a box of Halloween decorations off the futon.  
  
_Is she scared of me, now? Is everyone? Not that I blame them… I can’t believe that just- I can’t believe I did that...Ugh, I’ve_ got _to apologize to Luke. And – what was I doing before…? Oh! I was going to see-  
  
_“Kate!” Max cried out, surprising Dana with her sudden exclamation. “Is Kate OK? Have you talked to her? Does she know I’m here?”  
  
“What?” Dana replied as she pulled Trevor’s jacket over her shoulders, still shaking, and still trying to hide it. “Oh. Yeah… she’s, I mean, I wouldn’t say ‘OK.’ But her and Stella were doing homework together. You did the right thing, reaching out and sending that text. We’re still figuring out how to get Kate the support she needs. Real talk, though? We’re all worried about _both_ of you- and tonight, Kate would want you to focus on taking care of yourself, Max.”  
  
_Then please, please take care of her. She needs us,_ Max thought, taking several deep breaths, her eyes transfixed on the ice pack. _Some pacifist, huh? I...I guess I really lost control? ...Again?  
  
_Dana’s warm smile could not entirely mask the deep concern written across her face as she resumed pacing across the small room. In that moment she seemed different to Max – older perhaps? She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly, but she felt safe, cared for, and more connected to her cheerleader classmate than she’d ever expected to.  
  
“Thanks, Dana. Really. Today, this week… I don’t even know what to say. It’s been so hard and you’ve been so nice to me through it all and I just-”  
  
Suddenly, the  _bangbangbangbang!_  of fists pounding on Dana’s closed door caused Max’s heart to skip a beat. Her feet, legs, and injured hands began quivering again as Juliet’s voice shouted from the hallway:  
  
“HALLLLL MEETING! HALL MEETING! Emergency hall meeting! Everyone OUT!!”  
  
Dana cracked the door open and called out to Juliet, “Oh. My. God. Could you _chill?_ Some of us have had an intense day!”  
  
“Sooner everyone gets out, sooner I get to stop saying HALLLL MEETING! HALL MEETING!”  
  
As Juliet made her way down the hall, her wet hair dripped from the rain outside. She continued banging on other doors as she went, the clanging and jingling of her long necklace adding to the racket. Dana shut her door and knelt next to Max, asking “Hey, you OK? Max? I know that was _not_ what you needed right now.”  
  
Max quietly nodded, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths as her shaking gradually became less severe. “We should probably get out there before she comes back.”  


* * *

_"See the moon tonight  
Shining bright in the cold  
While the clouds pass by  
It’s watching us through it all  
  
Pick yourself up, ‘cause we’re the survivors  
Standing tall to attenuate  
Need to believe that we’re the survivors  
You’re not gonna fade away"  
  
_Human Touch, [We’re the Survivors](https://open.spotify.com/track/4Gu080tKqktocEraeylz5Y)  
  


* * *

Only the distant, deep rumble of thunder and light pattering of rain broke the silence in the TV Lounge when Max entered, followed by Dana, still wearing Trevor’s jacket. They found Kate and Stella quietly studying, both dressed in pajamas, TV turned off. Kate sat in a standard black student lounge chair, while Stella sat crosslegged on the carpeted floor nearby, facing her.  
  
Kate rose to offer her still-shaky friend Max a hug, which was gratefully accepted, once again maneuvering to avoid any pressure to her hands. As Kate returned to her seat, Max claimed the black chair next to hers, which they scooted closer together until the chairs were side-by-side. Juliet entered the room and immediately beckoned Dana to join her on a faded red couch where they began earnestly whispering to one another. Moments later, Victoria burst into the room and claimed the large red reclining chair, impatiently tapping and scrolling on her smartphone. Dressed in a hoodie and pajama pants with hair wet from the growing storm, Brooke was the last to arrive, sitting in the only black chair left and quietly reading a page of text on her tablet.  
  
Anxious that several pairs of eyes might be focusing on her, Max looked down, hiding her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and longing to escape. _I wonder if they all know about what happened with Luke? ...or if this meeting is about me? Are they finally voting me off the island?  
  
__No way, Juliet wouldn’t do that… would she? I just hope we can get this over with soon.  
  
_“Where’s Taylor?” Juliet finally asked, looking to Victoria.  
  
“Family emergency,” came Victoria’s terse reply.  
  
“OK. Well, someone please fill her in when we’re done?”  
  
“Done _what_? I have a test tomorrow,” Brooke said, her sense of irritation palpable.  
  
“Yes, I get it. You all want to know why I called this meeting. I have it on good information that…” Juliet took a deep breath, gathering her resolve and inviting a moment of dramatic tension before she continued, “that Mr. Jefferson has been arrested. It breaks online tonight, in the papers tomorrow morning.”  
  
A chorus of “what?” and “this is bullshit!”, among other choice phrases, rose from a few of Max’s classmates. Max remained still, staring blankly down at her hoodie’s pockets without a word. Eventually glancing over to see the tears forming in Kate’s eyes, Max gently nudged her friend with her arm, offering a tenuous but encouraging nod. Juliet loudly clapped her hands, quieting the group yet causing Max to jump in her seat, and continued.  
  
“My source said that for now, charges include drug possession, kidnapping, sexual abuse, and murder. Him and Nathan did… did _this_ together.” The aspiring journalist paused, shaking her head, as lightning crashed directly outside the TV Lounge window, causing everyone to jump. “My source said the names of some of the victims might leak. And… and some of his victims were, _are,_ students here.”  
  
“Are… are you _sure_? I mean, this is- those are really serious charges,” Stella said, her jaw hanging open slightly as a horrified expression crossed her face. “You said the news is gonna break…?”  
  
“Tonight, on social media and blogs. Tomorrow for our parents.” A couple nervous laughs, and back to an uncomfortably quiet lull. “The school hasn’t said anything yet. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I _do_ know that they,” Juliet became choked up, trying and failing to hold back tears as she added, “they found Rachel Amber, and she’s… they found her remains. I’m sorry.”  
  
As Dana wept and hugged Juliet, Max continued to stare down at her hands, pushing aside raw and all-too-recent memories. She was once again grateful not to feel the full impact of Juliet’s words, whether due to knowing most of these dark truths already or, more likely, the well-fortified bulwark surrounding her heart. Around her, she heard restrained, sorrowful sniffling from some students and stunned silence from others.  
  
“So, that’s all. Meeting adjourned. I’m so, so sorry.” Juliet said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.  
  
The air was thick with shock and despair as they gathered their belongings. Brooke was first to leave, quickly shuffling out without a word. On her way out, Stella began frantically typing out a text message, tears streaming down her face and onto the screen as she went. Dana gestured to Max and Kate before she left, her eyes puffy and mascara running as she discreetly indicated she’d be waiting for them just outside the room.  
  
Struggling to maintain her composure, Juliet turned to her remaining classmates and said, “Kate, Victoria, Max? Could I speak to you really quick? I have some more info for you.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” Max and Victoria replied in unison.  
  
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to hear about this from the Beacon or whatever.” Juliet grimaced as she added, “They said Mr. Jefferson had this _bunker_ , and all these binders with pictures. Max and Victoria, there were binders with your names on them, but they were empty. Kate, yours was-”  
  
Before she could finish the sentence, Kate was halfway out the door and running down the hall. _Kate! Nonononono…_ Max immediately rose to follow her, but a loud ringtone with [familiar and grating lyrics](https://youtu.be/P_WyB1Yunqw?t=59) startled her as it filled the room:  
  
“ _Let me be your ruler (ruler)  
You can call me Queen Bee  
And baby I’ll rule-”  
  
_Moving quickly towards the door, Max heard the beginning of Victoria’s phone conversation, the taller girl rushing into the hallway and down the stairs with panic in her voice. “Oh my G- no, T, _stop crying._ I can’t understand- Where are you? You said they didn’t know how serious - I’m so sorry! No- don’t you _dare_ get back on the road- I’m coming!”  
  
_Oh no! Taylor’s mom can’t be…?  
  
_Her voice faded as she disappeared down the stairwell.  
  
Max and Juliet were alone.  
  
Like the storm outside, Max’s heartbeat was growing more intense with each passing moment.  
  
_A binder with my name on it- on Tuesday? He was going to… going to “capture” me all along? And this will be “breaking news” before the end of the night… everyone will know…_ _for Kate and Victoria, too, everyone will know…  
  
_Max’s stomach lurched, and she felt like she might throw up as she ran out into the hall and approached Kate’s room, Juliet following several paces behind. The sound of raindrops pelting the roof brought the terrible memory of Kate’s death – _in another reality! I can still save her! –_ to the front of her mind.  
  
_Please, Kate, please hold on.  
  
_Stella and Dana were standing outside Kate’s door, Dana rapidly typing out texts while Stella gently knocked and called Kate’s name. As Max came near, Dana stepped forward to meet her.  
  
“Is she in there? Is she OK?” Max asked, her voice as flat and hollow as the moment she’d awakened in Dana’s room that morning.  
  
“Stella’s here for her. Max, why don’t we leave them alone for now?” Dana said, gesturing for Max to follow her.  
  
“Dana, please… I just. I need to know she’s OK. _Please_ , I just want to be here for her.” Half-formed thoughts and memories raced through Max’s mind: the rooftop, a shallow junkyard grave, Luke’s shocked expression, her own menacing countenance in the Nightmare and in the bathroom mirror, and her best friend…  
  
She could not handle another tragedy.  
  
She would burst open at the seams.  
  
Kate _had to_ be OK. Had to.  
  
“Max, hey. It’s gonna be alright,” Dana said, her tearful blue eyes looking deep into Max’s own. Just as she had in Dana’s room, Max felt connected, seen, understood. Max breathed easier as Dana continued, “I know you’re worried about her. We _all_ are. But she needs you to be OK tonight, just as much as you need her to be. Let Stella take point on supporting Kate for now, and let me support you. Please?”  
  
_Wowsers. She seems to know exactly what I need to hear, to calm me down.  
  
__And I want to believe her… Maybe I should?  
  
_“You promise Stella will do everything she can do? ...and she’ll let Kate know I’m thinking of her? Actually, I’m going to text her. I can text her, right?” Max could hear the anxious edge in her tone, but tried to focus on Dana’s words.  
  
“Yes, absolutely, and yes,” Dana said with a genuine, relieved smile. “But first, do you think you’ll be OK in your room tonight?”  
  
_It will be hard, but_ _after_ _so much intense shit today, I_ really _need to be alone...  
  
_“I, um. I should probably try to sleep in my own bed,” Max replied.  
  
Leading Max down the hall towards her own room, Dana said, “Great! Let’s get you ready.”  


* * *

  
A violent crack of thunder shook Max’s windowpane, calling to her above the raucous, accusatory clamor of a hundred thousand raindrops broadcasting her mistakes, her failures. She sipped from the water bottle Dana had left her, remembering her friend’s insistence to “ _call her, text her, knock on her door”_ if it all got to be too much.  
  
Instead, Max sat in bed, her journal spread open on her lap as she placed the water bottle down and picked up a pen. After carefully composing and sending texts to Kate and Luke, she’d spent the last ten minutes reading through the oldest entries. She had to stop before reaching _that week_. Like her room’s decorations and knickknacks, writing might belong to her former life- a relic of the naive, sentimental, hopeful person she’d never be again.  
  
Yet here she was, restless, awake, and alone.  
  
_This might not help, but it couldn’t hurt… right?  
  
_As her pen hurried across the paper in fits and starts, the dull ache across her knuckles returned with each stroke. The pain felt fitting somehow, so she continued her entry:  
  
_“_ _October 8, 2013 (again…)  
__Today I lied to_ _Dad_ _,_ _my friends,_ _the police,_ _even myself_ _._ _W_ _hat if I_ _told_ _the truth, but no one believe_ _d_ _me? What_ _if_ _my truth isn’t clear?  
  
__They arrested_ _Jeffershit_ _(no thanks to me)_ _._ _E_ _mpty binder in this timeline,_ _fractured memories from_ _another:_ _a_ _m I_ _a_ _victim? Is my story “true,” if it never happened here? I don’t_ _know_ _._ _J_ _ust wish I had someone to talk to. (No offense to you, dear journal.)  
  
I __wish she was here. I wish I could talk to her._ _  
  
At least __now Nathan and Jeffershit_ _can’t hurt anyone else at Blackwell. I hope_ _th_ _at_ _will help Kate_ _cope_ _._ _I’m_ _so_ _worried… I’_ _ll never forget the look_ _of hopeless despair_ _in her eyes when she jumped. Dana and Stella keep_ _saying_ _, get some rest, they’ve got this. But I can’t stop thinking about it._ _S_ _ent another text._ _W_ _hat else_ _can I_ _do?  
  
I’m getting pretty worried about myself, too._ _I know I made the wrong decision when it mattered most. Might_ _be selfish, but I still hope I can go back. She_ _can’t_ _be gone forever. There has to be a way!  
  
__Please, whatever_ _or whoever_ _gave me the Rewind, and took it away- please don’t let me be stuck in this timeline. Please. I can’t do it. Just two days, and I’m losing my mind!_ _I feel empty and numb most of the time, and the rest of the time…_ _who the hell knows?_ _I hurt Luke._ _Wrecked my camera,_ _a_ _nd_ _a whole bathroom._ _W_ _hat_ _happen_ _s_ _next time_ _I lose control_ _?  
  
I’m a fucking storm.  
  
I __can’t change it. Where would I start? I don’t understand what’s happening to me. (What’s new?)_

 _Ugh._ _Writing all this_ _isn’t helping that much.  
  
Please, please let me go back.  
  
I miss her.  
  
And I’m sorry._”  
  
Max felt tears threatening to fall, but blinked them away as she closed the journal, placed it on her nightstand, and laid her cell phone next to it. She plugged her headphones into the jack and tapped “Play,” turning off the lamp. Sighing, she took one last glance at the cracked screen before she laid back against her pillows and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to finally overtake her.  
  
[Of Monsters and Men – [Thousand Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUaYcXPyYnc)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Immense gratitude for the feedback and encouragement of each Solstice - No Return beta reader, as well!
> 
> I know this chapter gets pretty intense. If you are feeling sad or worried or any kind of way, I'm sorry. Please take good care! CH2 was difficult to write, as I put a lot of heart and bits of personal experience in there. I don't set out to hurt readers, use plot twists for shock value, or have beloved characters endlessly suffer. I hesitate to explain too much in A/N about why I wrote this chapter as I did, mostly to avoid spoilers. But I feel there is a good (narrative) reason, and there will be lighter moments throughout Solstice as well (less in its early chapters).
> 
> On a different note, [EDIT: personal circumstances have delayed progress on Chapter 3. This fic is not abandoned, and I appreciate your patience!] Thanks again for reading & have a good one :)
> 
> Acronyms & Jargon:  
> ABPD – Arcadia Bay Police Department  
> I.E.P. - Individualized Education Program, a written plan used primarily for students with disabilities or who have other support needs, to set individualized goals and expectations (for all parties). Max’s student file hints she had one carried over from Seattle days, possibly related to social anxiety.


	3. Aura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is finally here! Life circumstances don’t really allow for an update schedule, but my heart is in this project (I <3 bookmarks!). Thank you for your patience!
> 
> It's been a while, so please consider reading tags &/or skimming CH1&2 before starting CH3 (just a suggestion tho!)
> 
> Content note: bullying, emotional abuse, blaming-the-victim, mental health struggles, Jefferson apologists, non-specific mention of LiS plot stuff (kidnapping, Dark Room, suicide, death/grief/loss)  
> Solstice Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2OVeQFH

“’ _Lectric blue yeah, color of my room_  
_Where I sleep in, hoping that I see you soon_  
_Oh I still get shivers thinking of that high_  
_And I don’t even mind_ ”

The Preatures, [It Gets Better](https://youtu.be/OKHpGZsT4fY)

* * *

“ _Max, start from the beginning. Tell me everything…”_

 _As Max breathlessly recounted her first vision, her ocean blue eyes focused solely on her best friend. Chloe was glowing, her face and bare arms bathed in amber rays of light as the setting sun lingered over the boundless sea. Brilliant beams reflected off the spikes on her bracelet and the three defiant bullets dangling from her necklace. As each new snowflake dissolved against her_ _vibrantly_ _tattooed arm, the punk’s teasing disbelief transformed into awestruck amazement._

_They were together again!_

_She had Chloe’s full attention, and the look of wonder in the bluenette’s eyes made her heart want to dance- or, wave her arms about, in an adorkable approximation of dancing. The sort of joyous, arrhythmic motion that had always made Chloe grin and laugh, but never judge. In any case they were back together, and as she bemoaned reliving that boring Language of Photography lecture, Max simultaneously hoped and feared that her mesmerized best friend would not notice the warmth rising through her freckled cheeks._

_The weird, ominous, and beautiful snowfall seemed the perfect end to the day of their unexpected reunion. As the sky grew dark and shining stars filled its vast expanse, they descended from the lighthouse cliff to the beach where Chloe’s truck was parked, and climbed in._

_Chloe jammed_ _her_ _key into the ignition while Max leaned down to tuck her messenger bag on_ _to_ _the floor between her feet. A quiet gasp escaped her lips and an excited shiver ran up her arm as she sat back up, her hand brushing Chloe’s as the bluenette put the car into reverse._

_Max’s eyes lingered on the blue-painted nails lifting from the stick shift to the steering wheel as she imagined Chloe’s hand gently holding her own, fingers intertwining, and-_

“ _That, um… that color looks great!” Max said with a hesitant smile, averting her eyes and sitting up. A knowing grin spread across the older girl’s face as she eased the truck backwards, stopped, and shifted into drive._

“ _Dork,” Chloe replied._

“ _Punk!”_

“ _Punks are cool,” the punk said with a laugh._

_After a few moments, Chloe continued their trip down memory lane. Her voice was quiet and earnest as it’d been five years earlier, when she first said to Max:_

“ _You know what, Max Caulfield?”_

“ _What, Chloe Price?”_

“ _You’re the frickin’ best. That’s all.”_

“ _Talk about mushy_ _._ _Where’d that come from?_ _”_

“ _Just thinking about how awesome_ _it is to have my best friend back_ _,” Chloe concluded, bumping Max’s shoulder with hers._

_Max and Chloe each let out a contented sigh, quietly watching the road._

_As they drove across Arcadia Bay, conversation turned to the day’s events and the secrets they’d shared up by the lighthouse. By now, Chloe was filled-in on Max’s powers, her visions, and her suspicions about who had hurt Kate Marsh, Rachel Amber, and – though she wouldn’t spell it out – Chloe herself._

_And best of all? Her best friend believed her!_

_OK –_ maybe _she hedged by insisting that Max meet up to demonstrate her powers over breakfast tomorrow. And_ maybe _Chloe found it hard to trust sometimes. But Max saw it in her eyes: this wasn’t about doubt. This was about seeing each other again._

_Like… a date?_

OK, wowsers- nooooo need to get ahead of… I mean, it’s been so long, and I’ve never felt that way about- and right now she’s pretty focused on finding Rachel.

_Max stole one more glance at the bluenette before returning her focus to the road ahead._

One thing’s clear: my best friend’s back!

Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver ride again!

 _Back at school, Max felt positively giddy when she heard a jovial “Later, nerd!” shouted from the truck’s cab as Chloe rode off. Heads turned as tires squealed, dozens of eyes following that_ _bold_ _blue head of hair all the way out the visitors’ lot._

Let them stare _, Max thought, making a quick trip to the campus library before returning to the Prescott dorm with a pronounced spring in her step._ Let them talk. I don’t care!

_Tonight, not even the Blackwell Academy gossip mill could get her down!_

_She’d told her best friend_ everything _, every detail of her frightening visions and mystifying powers, and so far nothing terrible came of it. In fact, the revelation only brought them closer_ _together_ _. Her relief and exhilaration fueled her through several hours of time-travel research. Just before midnight, texts from Chloe confirming their breakfast da-…_ meeting _reignited Max’s drive to learn everything she could on the topic._

 _Her best friend had always been brilliant when it came to science, and even used to help Max with her homework. Of course, Max didn’t know if_ _her powers could be explained at all_ _\- but_ _tomorrow, with Chloe by her side_ _, maybe they could figure it out?_

 _Several_ _Rewinds later, Max had read both_ _ The Time Machine _ _and_ _ Bid Time Return _ _cover to cover, and skimmed a primer on quantum physics. Her laptop display revealed a dizzying array of open tabs, while the wall above her desk was covered with Post-Its and other bits of paper overflowing with notes, theories, doodles and diagrams. She did not feel prepared to dazzle Chloe with complex theories or obscure time travel trivia, but she’d at least be able to keep up with her_ _clever_ _companion when the topic came up._

_The downside, of course, was the sense of exhaustion that now threatened to overwhelm her._

_But Chloe was still treating her to breakfast in the morning, a fact that spread a gleeful smile across her face as she finally climbed into bed. After reading through Chloe’s texts one last time, Max turned off her lamp, closed her eyes, and drifted peacefully back against her pillows._

 

* * *

After tapping the [Snooze] button on her phone alarm twice, Max rolled out of bed, stretched, and hurried through her morning routine half-awake and bursting with anticipation.

_Even with all this crazy shit going on, it is so cool having Chloe back in my life again!_

_Can’t wait to catch up for real!_

Getting dressed and ready in record time as a wide grin spread across her drowsy face, she barely noticed a few aches and pains in the process. _Too many Rewinds last night?,_ she thought with a shrug. _Probably not a big deal. I’ll just be more careful._ She wasn’t about to miss out on quality time with her best friend!

Plus, her mouth was already watering at the thought of a huge, warm, tasty Belgian waffle.

Picking up the water bottle on her nightstand, Max shared a little with Lisa before taking a sip herself, swallowing a dose of Aleve, and looking around for her camera.

No luck.

 _I’ll try again after breakfast_ , she decided, grabbing her messenger bag and humming happily to herself as she walked to the bus stop.

Approaching the stop, she watched leaves drifting along in the autumn breeze and listened with a pleased sigh to the intricate, cheerful chorus of bird calls that filled the morning air.

After passing several empty seats, Max took her preferred spot – not right up near the driver, but not at the back of the bus either. Right in the middle. Yawning as she put her earbuds in, she tapped the [Shuffle] icon and looked down at the cracked screen as the music started to play.

[Ani DiFranco – [The Diner](https://youtu.be/Ym3jEg_I9Bw)]

_Such literal, very song. Wow._

Max lightly chuckled to herself. _Chloe’s a good bad influence!_

_Meme city, population: her. Or, us?_

Her smile grew as the bus pulled in, and she removed the earbuds, placing the loosely tangled cord back into her messenger bag. When the doors opened, Max sprung from the exit to the curb, bounding down the sidewalk to the diner.

 

* * *

Pushing open the swinging door of the Two Whales with her forearm, Max took in the aroma of breakfast and sound of clanging silverware. Stepping forward and catching her breath, her eyes eagerly searched the booths and the counter. She saw a few truckers and local fishermen, but no Chloe.

_I’ll be lucky if she makes it before noon._

As she slid into her side of their usual booth, a powerful wave of nostalgia washed over Max. Everything in the diner evoked memories of her early adolescence: the enticing smell from the kitchen, the same old guitar tune spinning in the jukebox, the mounted fishing trophies and stacks of tourist brochures… Sure, there might be a little more chipped paint, and they’d replaced the boxy old school TV monitor with a flat-screen. But it was still the Two Whales, and returning here still felt just a little bit like coming home.

_Welcome to 2008!_

“Oh, hi there!,” the waitress said with a smile as she approached the booth, “Welcome back to the Two Whales! Can I start you off with some coffee?” There was something familiar about her curly black hair and the name on her employee tag: “Bootsie.” The way she greeted Max, she seemed sure that they’d met somewhere before...

_Need my morning coffee – once I’m awake, I’ll remember who she is._

_But where’s Joyce?_ _I hope she’s not feeling sick…_

“Yes, thanks! Um… Two coffees, actually,” Max said, unable to keep from blushing.

“Oh?” Bootsie said, raising her eyebrow with a knowing smile as she poured coffee into the ceramic mug in front of Max, “Would you like to order now, or-”

“Yeah, no, I’ll wait til she gets here,” Max cheerfully replied.

Bootsie nodded and winked, setting two menus down before returning to the counter. Moments later, she placed a second mug on the opposite side of the table – still quite close to Max’s own – and poured with a little room left for creamer.

Curious as ever, Max wanted to ask about Joyce. She even opened her mouth to speak, but it was a beat too late- Bootsie had already turned to refill one of the fishermen’s mugs.

 _I’m sure Chloe will tell me_ , Max thought, running a finger along the table’s distinctive nerd graffiti with an amused sigh as she took her first delicious sip of the Two Whales house blend. _A dorky rebel – the best kind! I’d recognize her handwriting anywhere…_

Placing the mug back down, Max delighted in watching the steam from both cups rising in one stream.

Together.

Max continued drinking her coffee as she watched the front door, eager for her best friend to come barreling in. Her mind turned over yesterday’s events: discovering her Rewind powers, the missing student, the bizarre but beautiful snowfall, and reuniting with Chloe.

“ _It’s been a hella insane fucking day,”_ the bluenette had said, up by the lighthouse.

_Understatement of the century._

But Max was not afraid. They’d always made a great team, and they could take on _anything_! Max had the deductive mind, an admittedly soft heart, and a very long night’s worth of frenetic time travel research; Chloe had her love of science, her fierce loyalty, and confidence enough for both of them.

 _Best of all,_ Max thought to herself as she finished off the coffee, quietly remembering the feeling when her hand brushed Chloe’s, _we have each other._

Max was startled out of her wandering thoughts by a sudden _buzz_ and vibration from her pocket. Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Messenger app icon, reading the new message on the mysteriously cracked screen:

[From: Luke]  
[To: Max]

[Heyo Max, sorry for delay. Morning drills ran late.]  
[Apology accepted! Scared me, but nose will be fine.]  
[Let’s talk asap? I’m worried about you.]  
[And I still got your notes!]

_What? Apology accepted…? That makes zero sense._

_How do I even respond to that?_

Max glanced down at Chloe’s coffee, too cold now to produce steam, and then to the diner’s front door.

She waited several seconds, but no one came.

A confused expression crossed Max’s face as she turned back to her phone and tapped the [Back] arrow, exiting the Messenger app, and grew even more puzzled as she read the screen:

**[8:45 A.M., Wednesday, October 9, 2013]**

[Voicemail box full]  
[9 unread messages]  
[2 unread emails]

_Wednesday? Since when is my phone date set to the future? Did using my Rewind mess with the date/time settings, or something?_

Her empty stomach gurgled, her gut shifting uncomfortably as she tapped on the Blackwell webmail app to check her unread emails.

Her jaw dropped, hanging open in shock, as her spoon fell from her hand with a jarring _clank_.

[From: R. Wells, Re: Memorial Services for former students Chloe Eli-]  
[From: J. Price, Re: (no subject), It breaks my whole heart to inform y-]

_**No.** _

_**NO!** _

_Nonononononono-_

Her right hand was swollen across the knuckles and shaking violently as she tried, unsuccessfully, to Rewind. One of the truckers briefly craned his neck to watch her, but lost interest as she began digging through her messenger bag, her thoughts spinning wildly.

_She’ll be here any minute. I’m sure as soon as I calm down my power will work just fine. She’s coming to meet me and I’m gonna make up for lost time with my best friend and we’ll catch up and talk time travel theories and maybe someone hacked Joyce’s account I mean this has got to be some sick joke…_

But by now the caffeine had swept away the last vestiges of her sleepy daze, and Max was wide awake. The memories were flooding back, from That Week, to her final photo jump, that reality-shattering gunshot, and yesterday’s out-of-body experiences.

When the realization came crashing in, it hit her full-on.

No protection, no screeching brakes, no last-minute Rewind.

_Seeing her again was… was just a dream?_

_This is all… she- I can’t…she’s not coming…_

As she halfheartedly pulled out the butterfly photo and tried to concentrate, she confirmed her fears.

Her best friend was gone, and so were her powers.

Max was alone.

It had seemed so real, her hopes had been sky-high, she’d felt _certain_ Chloe would come busting through that door, mischievous, cocksure, and _alive._ That fact made last night’s dream worse than any Nightmare.

As Max’s lip started to quiver, her stomach lurched, and her hand continued shaking, she began to hear the same distant, ambient white noise in her mind that she knew could escalate to roaring radio static. Terrified of drawing attention or breaking down in public- especially after yesterday’s incidents- Max stood and rushed across the diner to the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet lid and locking the stall door behind her.

Many long minutes passed as she hugged her knees and trembled, still unable to release the tears she longed to shed, with only crass bathroom graffiti to keep her company.

[WASH BEFORE PISSING ON THE FLOOR]

With a disgusted sigh, Max tried her best to collect herself before leaving the bathroom, filled with an urgent need to get back to her room and pull the covers over her head. Though aware of her actions, she felt empty and dazed as she asked for a coffee refill “to go,” let Bootsie fill her thermos, paid for the drinks, and left the diner.

The waitress called out, “You _sure_ you don’t want any breakfast, hon?” as the swinging door closed behind her. Yet, by the time she heard the kind woman’s words, Max was halfway to the bus stop.

 

* * *

_Back to reality…_

Max sat listlessly watching out the window as the bus pulled onto the Blackwell campus, approaching the stop. She hadn’t even bothered with earbuds for this ride – no, she was wide awake and stuck in this timeline now. No use tuning it out, it would all still be there when the music was over: the brick classroom building with its pointed roof, the stern statue keeping watch above the fountain, and the echoing absence of her best friend.

Already exhausted and excused from her classes for the day, the dread Max often felt when returning to campus was replaced with a sense of resignation. Defeat. The thought of enduring this reality with no hope of escape, stuck forever with the decisions she’d made, turned over in her mind.

_No more Rewind. No more photo-jumping. No more…_

_No more Chloe…_

Her thoughts were once again interrupted by her phone’s vibration, signaling a series of incoming texts. Struggling to focus and to be honest, Max read her friend’s message and quickly typed out her reply:

[From: Kate]  
[To: Max]

[Max. Thx for your sweet message!]  
[Last night was really painful but Stella stayed up with me]  
[Thanks to you, I have a whole Kate Protection Squad!]  
[But are you OK? Missed you this morning.]  
[No classes for me – would love to see u! Xoxoxo]

[From: Max]  
[To: Kate]

[I’m sorry last night was so hard]  
[But I’m so glad to hear from you!]  
[We’ve all got your back]  
[Was on trip down memory lane (._.)]  
[Will be OK. Coming by before noon!]

Returning the device to her messenger bag, Max slowly exhaled her pent-up breath, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. By now, the bus had long since left the diner in its dust, and for a fleeting moment, Max felt reassured.

_At least Kate is OK… OK enough to text, anyway._

_I’_ _ve got to see her soon – no forgetting!_

During the ride, Max finished readjusting to the waking world by going over her plans for the morning: _apologize to Luke, talk to Kate, then – ugh – that I.E.P. meeting. Luke, Kate, meeting… after that, can I just lie down? And not deal with anything? Please?_

As the bus began to slow down, Max opened her eyes and looked through the window.

Outside, under an overcast gray sky, most of the students within her line of sight were gathered at two spots. On the opposite end of the courtyard, one group was crowded together just outside the steps of the Prescott dorm building, most standing still while others were paired off with arms hooked over each other’s shoulders. A soft glow emanated from the space between the students and the brick wall.

_So many people… I hope I can sneak through without… ugh. What are they all staring at?_

Unable to see through the huddled mass from where she sat, Max rested her eyes on the group closer to the bus. Around a dozen students were gathered near the bus stop. _Not too-too many… I should get by OK_ , Max pondered as she watched them form into a semi-circle around two students: Evan and Zach.

The photography student’s burgundy cloth scarf wafted behind him in the breeze, a metal clipboard and pen in his hands, yet no camera in sight. Head held high, Evan confidently addressed the football player, while the other students looked on, transfixed by their confrontation.

Zach was frowning, fists balled up, his reddened face almost comically matching his letterman jacket. When Evan paused, Zach interrupted, and his furiously animated hand gestures drew laughing, whooping approval from the two other football players standing near him.

Unbothered, Evan removed and wiped his glasses with a tissue pulled from his jacket pocket, casually putting them back on while Zach said his piece.

Max could finally hear them arguing, as the bus pulled to a stop.

“...and they’re _models_ , not _victims_ , dude!” Zach shouted, cocking his head to one side and waving his muscular forearm mockingly, “You’re gonna ruin the guy’s life over some kinky goddamn photos? _Really_?”

Max’s cheek twitched and her jaw tightened at Zach’s words, but before she could ponder this reaction, she heard Evan’s reply.

“First of all, how do you explain that secret bunker, _hmm_? Secondly, my petition _merely_ calls on the Blackwell administration to remove a photo exhibition that jeopardizes student well-being and honors a man accused of harming students,” Evan recited the words with poised self-assurance, passing the clipboard to a beckoning student as the bus doors opened.

As Max rose from her seat and moved towards the door, most of the students from the semi-circle lined up to board the bus, their eyes still fixed on the argument. Evan’s pointedly calm demeanor seemed to offend Zach, who Max could see pointing his index finger directly into Evan’s chest as she stepped off the bus.

“Everyone knows those are lies, man. Maybe you’re ‘ _playing for the home team’_ and women ain’t _your thing_ ,” he said with a haughty grin, withdrawing his hand while onlookers tittered, “But you know how many guys have to deal with this? It’s more ‘he said, she said’ _bullshit_ and only a fucking loser would fall for it.”

_Asshole…_

The last few passengers hurried onto the bus, one of them handing the clipboard back to Evan before boarding. Only Max, Evan, Zach, and the two other football players remained at the stop.

Gesturing towards the bus, its windows now opened with several students’ heads leaning out, Zach roughly shoved Evan and continued in a menacing tone, “You need to watch yourself. The Vortex knows about your little petition. And you _don’t_ want to get on our bad side.”

Max looked to Evan’s face, then his eyes, her whole body growing tense at seeing her classmate outnumbered.

Although they had two classes together, Max barely knew Evan, not well enough to know whether his assertive stance was a front. When he met her eyes and nodded, almost imperceptibly, she took his meaning.

He was scared.

Max’s mind jumped to the many varieties of bullying she’d witnessed at Blackwell: against Daniel, Alyssa, Luke, Max herself… and Kate. _Everyone just stood back and watched… or joined in. Even after Kate… oh, Kate…_

 _I should_ do _something._

 _I… I always wish I would’ve… but ugh, I’m injured, and this isn’t even my fight! I need to_ _talk to Luke, then_ _get back to Kate. I need to know that Kate’s OK… but maybe she would want me to step in?_

Max took a deep breath _._

_I...I can do this._

“H-hey, Evan. Um, everything OK?” Max said, hesitantly taking a step towards Evan, the short brunette suddenly feeling the others towering over her.

“Hipster to the rescue, huh?” Zach sneered and took a step back, his friends snickering and crossing their arms. His posture relaxed and the red hue in his face began to fade as they continued laughing.

“Hear me out,” Evan said, his voice conciliatory and almost steady, “Thanks to Drew North, scouts come to watch the Bigfoots play now. _Your_ ticket to a scholarship. Do you _really_ want this campus exhibit reminding _them_ that recruiting _you_ comes with a side of scandal?”

Zach paused, raising his brow, looking back and forth between Evan and Max with a curious expression until one of his football bros jabbed him in his upper arm, followed by a playful shove. “C’mon, man!”

“Nice try, freak.” Zach said as he reached forward, slapping the clipboard out of Evan’s hands from underneath. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll both mind your own _fucking_ business.”

As Evan knelt to pick up the clipboard, the pen, and several sheets of paper that had fallen out, a chorus of guffaws rose from the jock trio, echoed by several voices trailing behind the bus as it rolled away from the stop.

Max had been in situations just like this several times, both at Blackwell and back in Seattle, and she usually froze. But today, well… after everything she’d been through, after facing down Jefferson, after losing Chloe, Zach and his teammates seemed _small_. Insignificant.

 _Whatever they_ _think_ _they_ _can do_ _to me, I’ve already been through worse…_

Recalling a useful memory from another timeline, Max looked Zach directly in the eyes.

“Is that what you told Victoria,” Max said accusingly, “When you two started sexting? ‘Sitting on my football?’ Really?”

“Huh?” Zach said, the amusement in his expression quickly shifting to indignation.

Turning to Evan, Max flippantly asked, “You think Juliet knows what’s on her boyfriend’s phone?”

“Who the hell told y-” Zach paused and stepped back, his teammates eyeing him expectantly while his own disbelieving gaze fixed on Max. “Whatever you heard, it’s a lie. And this ain’t over.”

With that, Zach and his teammates stomped off in the direction of the classroom building, shoving one another and casting ice-cold glares over their shoulders as they went.

_Whew… I can’t believe that worked?_

Thankful that the shouting was over for now, Max listened to the gentle sound of the wind in the trees, and the occasional scampering squirrel, as she helped Evan gather the last of the blank petition sheets. As they began to talk, he placed the sheets in order before attaching them to the clipboard.

“You have my sincere gratitude for… _whatever_ you just did,” Evan said, clearing his throat, “and for using your _words_ , not your fists this time,” he added, side eye cautiously fixed on the brunette.

“What?” Max replied, taken aback.

“Luke tells me he’s off to return class notes to you, and he comes back with a bloody nose,” Evan said, re-wrapping his scarf and puffing air from his mouth disapprovingly. “An injury, above all, to his honor. If I were a _true_ gentleman, I would insist on a duel. Behind the flagpole, after class. Sabres or pistols?”

“I… Evan, I d-didn’t mean to… and I’m g-gonna meet him to…” Max’s voice trailed off and she stared at the ground, avoiding his eyes as the disjointed memory of yesterday’s brief encounter with Luke resurfaced.

“Max?” Evan said, his words losing their reproachful edge, “He told me you two will talk it out, and I trust him. Additionally, you _did_ just stave off imminent peril. I withdraw my challenge.”

When Max looked up, she found Evan’s thin-lipped hint of a smile and an almost friendly look in his eye. _OK, right… he was joking about the duel… of course. People don’t do that in this_ _millennium._ Breathing a sigh of relief, she said, “Thanks. I’m, uh, n-not big on guns anyway.” She began slowly walking away from the bus stop and closer to the dormitory, Evan joining alongside, as she added, “So… what was that about anyway?”

“Resistance and repression, just the latest chapter,” Evan replied, a determined glint in his eye. Max stopped, turning to Evan with a quizzical expression, and he continued, “I was at the bus stop, asking people to sign my petition. The Vortex Club maintains a close alliance with the institutional powers-that-be at Blackwell, and this week’s events cracked the facade. So, they sent their tallest, brawniest boys to scare me off. _Predictable_.”

“That makes _zero_ sense, Evan,” Max replied with a nervous laugh. “What’s the petition _for_?”

“It’s to remove the Jefferson exhibit, and some of the Prescott plaques around campus,” he said, shaking his head in frustration, “I already made a request, several times actually, and the school never responded to me – _rude! –_ but early this morning they put up a notice on the website and… Max? Hey, is something wrong?”

Max had stopped in the middle of the path, Evan walking several paces past her before realizing she was no longer at his side. As he turned around, she addressed him, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head to the side in exasperation.

“Evan, why would you… you didn’t think to talk to me before…” Max’s voice rose as she locked eyes with him, “did you even talk to Kate? Or… or _anyone_?”

“No, I… When I read the notice I was just aghast. I _had_ to do _something_. It’s an issue that concerns all students, I think…” As Evan tried to explain, Max continued to stare him down, glowering, “OK, you’re right. That was an oversight. But I’m talking to you now.”

 _That’s not an apology_ , Max thought to herself.

“I don’t care-” _about anything “_ about the petition. I mean, you’re right that they should take down these huge glaring reminders of what Jeffershit did-” she took a breath, noting Evan’s eyes grow wide with surprise when she said the derisive nickname, “but you should talk to Kate first. Do you have _any_ idea what we- what _she’s_ been going through? After that video, she felt like the whole school was talking about her, and… you just… she deserves to have a say in this. It’s like… like talking _over_ her, you know?”

They both stood silently, Max zipping up her hoodie while taking a deep breath, and Evan looking thoughtfully from her, to the crowd of students by the dorms, and back.

“I’ll talk to her,” Evan said quietly.

“Thank you,” Max said, resting her hand against her messenger bag as she added, “And if Kate gives her blessing, I’ll sign the petition. OK?”

“Her _blessing,_ Max? You’re as bad as Luke!”

They both laughed weakly.

“Um, you know where he is?” she asked with a knowing inflection in her voice.

Evan instantly smiled at the question, his expression toning down to an almost bashful grin as soon as Max noticed. “He’s in my room, 104,” he said matter-of-factly, “probably studying. He’s expecting you, but you should text him anyway. Just… try to keep your hands to yourself, hm?”

Max rolled her eyes, but replied in a serious tone, “I’ll try. Promise. Um, stay safe?” Waving goodbye, Max continued to walk once more in the direction of the dorm building as they parted ways.

“Thanks,” Evan replied as he left for the library.

* * *

“ _These stones were thrown for you_  
_All just for you_  
_The glass was broken for you_  
_All just for you  
__All just for you_ ”

The Hex Girls – [Five Fold Kiss](https://open.spotify.com/track/3G7OJ4rivabRKXGfXflNha?si=_CO-5qWFTPmjj7EUyl7g_g)

* * *

_Luke, Kate, meeting…_

Max repeated the plans in her mind as she approached the dorm entrance, hoping that the simple words might distract her from the large group of students gathered just to the left of the front steps.

Though she had planned to walk by and enter the building, she changed her mind when the crowd gradually began to disperse, effectively blocking the doorway as several students slowly made their way inside.

As the rest of the students shuffled off along the paved footpaths, several of them quietly sniffled and wiped their reddened eyes. Max’s heart sank when she realized what they’d been looking at. On the ground against the wall, separated by a few feet, sat two sets of candles and photographs, with flowers, cards, and other small items thrown in. Behind each set, a large piece of thick white posterboard leaned against the wall with a name neatly written on its center in bold black letters.

[RACHEL]      [CHLOE]

_Just like with Kate, in the other timeline… after she jumped…_

_I don’t know if I can do this right now…_

Rachel’s makeshift memorial was the larger of the two, centered around a framed headshot that leaned against the posterboard, a blue jay’s feather resting outside the frame. The posterboard itself was covered in handwritten messages from students. A red and black horned mask and a stuffed animal lion sat beside the photo, surrounded by dozens of mostly-lit candles and a few cards. One of the candles – a tea light – was balanced inside a Firewalk-branded shot glass.

After quickly lighting a candle, Max averted her eyes to look directly down at her shoes. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, her hands fidgety, and she couldn’t shake the thought _what are we supposed to_ do _, exactly, standing here? What am I supposed to feel?_ There was something too unnerving, too _real_ , about the collection of notes and mementos. She _knew_ Rachel was really gone, she _knew_ there was no fixing this now… but she was not nearly prepared to deal with the finality of it all.

_Rachel, I… I wish I would’ve…_

Max shook her head, finding its dull ache had improved since yesterday, and pushed aside her memories from That Week as her protective shell of numbness once again surrounded her heart.

Taking a deep breath and lifting her eyes, she slowly shifted her focus to Chloe’s memorial.

Her gaze first lingered on Chloe’s image, a “standard” yearbook photo with the exception of the scowl on her face and her casual, all-black attire. Three sheets of sketchbook paper were attached to the posterboard, each covered in hand-drawn art with Chloe’s distinctive style: one featuring a raven soaring above flames, the next a stylized ouroborous, and the last a blue butterfly perched on a worn metal key. A plain skateboard also leaned against her posterboard, with heartfelt and occasionally vulgar messages from Trevor, Justin, and a couple other students scrawled on the deck. A small rolled paper that appeared to be a joint was tucked behind one wheel. A Zippo lighter engraved with the Firewalk logo was placed near her photo, with a handful of candles nearby.

 _I miss you so fucking much,_ Max thought, leaning down to light a candle that had gone out. The lighter felt awkward in her hands, and it took her several attempts – and a bit of discomfort from the swelling – to finally set the wick aflame.

_You felt so alone, like no one cared…_

Even more than the first memorial, Max felt absolutely certain she was not prepared to face the meaning of this one. She _knew_ , and she wasn’t trying to escape anymore. But facing this loss, really facing it, was still far beyond what she could take.

_I… I should add something._

As Max stood back up, she began to comb her mind for an appropriate contribution to the memorial, but quickly hit a wall of indecision.

_Or should I wait for- I hate thinking about this. Do I wait for this weekend?_

The distant sound of a freight train’s horn snapped Max out of the brief daze as she caught herself staring down at the skateboard, the candlelight reflecting off its metallic bits.

 _I should find something to add, just in case, but… ugh. Maybe later. I’ll… I’ll come back._ _I’ll find something really good… something worthy of- ugh. Yes. I’ll come back._

 _But first_ _, I_ _promised I’d_ _talk to Luke…_

 

* * *

Closing the door behind her, Max found herself alone in Evan’s room. From Luke’s text only a few moments ago, she knew that he would return from the study lounge soon. She understood his request to talk privately, but still felt awkward about it when he’d asked her to wait here.

Eager to put all thoughts of memorials behind her for the moment, Max paused to look around at Evan’s space. The dorm room’s layout was identical to her own, but much tidier: the bed was neatly made, and except for Luke’s backpack laying open next to the desk, the floor was free of clutter. Just next to the desk, burgundy curtains with accents of silver filigree hung over the open window and shifted in the cool breeze.

_Who puts fancy curtains up in their dorm room…?_

Crossing the room, Max noticed several large, framed photographs decorated the two walls on either side of her. To her left, she recognized the disturbing and affecting image of a militiaman falling backwards on a battlefield, his outstretched hand releasing its grip on his rifle on the way down. _The Falling Solider – Robert Capa,_ she thought with a slight nod, proud for pulling a little historical photojournalist trivia from her still-caffeinated mind.

_I can’t believe Evan quizzed me on this before he’d let me see his portfolio… ugh, and I can’t believe I played along…_

Placing her messenger bag down, Max sat at Evan’s desk. Hearing her phone’s _buzz_ , she pulled it out to check her texts.

[From: Stella]  
[To: Max]  
  
[Max, thx again for telling us Kate was struggling]  
[last night she was hurting. bad.]  
[i know she’s not the only one.]  
[but she wanted to… i can’t even write it.]  
[with her now. have idea to get us thru this.]  
[can u come by Kate’s room soon?]

Max drew a sharp breath, gathering herself before sending a reply.

_She wanted to… to die?_

_I… maybe I shouldn’t have left her alone?_ _What if I’d_ _told her everything I knew, so she wouldn’t be surprised, wouldn’t have to hear it in front of everyone? Maybe I should’ve-_

 _No, no… you can’t Rewind_ _anymore_ _, dumbass. “Should’ve” won’t help._

 _What can we do_ now _?_

[From: Max]  
[To: Stella]  
  
[I wish I was there for her too (;_;)]  
[Thank you for staying up with her]  
[I absolutely want to hear your idea]  
[Talking to Luke, will come after]  
[Stay with her til then – pls?]

After Stella quickly confirmed, Max placed the phone back in her bag with a sigh.

_It’ll be OK. We’re gonna be OK. I’ll see her very soon. Stella has an idea. It’s OK. You’re OK._

_Breathe… don’t spin out… it’ll be OK… Stella’s with her… you_ need _to apologize to Luke._

Eager to distract herself as she waited for Luke to return, she took a few deep breaths and continued to look around Evan’s room. There were three other photographs mounted on the side walls, all striking images depicting historic acts of protest: Black Olympic medalists with fists raised proudly above their heads, a group of women marching and holding banners, and a masked person of color with a flower in one gloved hand and the other raised in a fist.

_Wowsers…_

The photos stirred an unusual feeling inside her – a sense of awe and a fleeting spark of inspiration, quickly replaced by self-doubt. The dull ache in her head returned as she realized that the last time photos made her feel this way was at the fancy opening of the Everyday Heroes exhibition – an event that, at least in this timeline, hadn’t even happened yet.

_Ugh… I could never take photos like these, even if I still had a camera._

_I hope Luke will get here soon…_

Turning away from the framed photos, Max rested her arm on the desk, accidentally knocking over a small brown-tinted glass vial. Fortunately, a rubber stopper prevented any of the liquid from spilling out, and Max carefully set the vial upright. Intrigued, she began to read the bottle’s pharmaceutical label, but stopped after seeing the name:

[A.A.B. Pharmacy]  
[LUKE PARKER]

_Dana was so upset when I snooped into her personal business… she wasn’t the only one, either. Luke could come in any moment, and I already owe him an apology!_

Nodding, Max willed herself to look up and away from the vial. The wall above Evan’s desk was nearly covered with a colorful array of activist fliers, posters, stickers, and buttons representing a range of mostly left-wing political organizations and causes. Her eyes rested uneasily on a familiar flier featuring an adorable seal, its head poking playfully out of the water:

[Save Arcadia Bay!]

_Ugh…_

Skimming most of the environmentalist message that followed, she noticed the last words on the page before quickly looking out the window.

[Don’t Let Your Town Down]

_I wish I never… never… UGH._

_Who knows if I saved anything?_

_But now I’m stuck._

_No do-overs, no_ _way out._

 _This school, this timeline_ _, those memorials_ _…_ _it’s_ _all_ _real._

_It was only- seeing her was only a, only a-_

“Hey, Slugger!” Luke called out as the door swung open, emerging through it with a self-assured stride, playfully putting up his fists and jabbing the air. “You should take up boxing. Or, damn, MMA!”, he added with an easygoing grin, “Your form needs work, but you got one helluva right hook!” Leaving the door open a crack, he casually sat on the edge of Evan’s bed, legs wide, facing Max.

She shifted back and forth in the desk chair before looking Luke in the eye and beginning to speak.

“Luke, I am _so sorry_!” she said, her voice soft and tremulous. She found a warm, welcoming gleam in her classmate’s eyes, but couldn’t bear to hold his gaze for very long, looking down at her hands as she continued, “Are you OK? I never wanted to… I mean, I didn’t even know what I…”

“Max, Max,” Luke calmly replied, gingerly touching the side of his face, “I’ll be fine. Hurt like hell, but you didn’t break anything. So, I mean, don’t hit people, ok? Don’t hit _me,_ ” he paused, seeing Max start to hang her head, “...but I don’t want you beating yourself up over this. Uh, no pun intended.”

“Eheheh,” Max instinctively chuckled at his wordplay, raising her head back up and feeling some of her tension release before looking at him and replying in a more serious tone, “Thanks. Is there… um, I d-don’t know. Will you forgive me? Is there s-something I can do to m-make it up to you?”

“You can _chill_ , Max!” he quickly replied, his hands held up in front of him with palms facing Max and a reassuring smile on his face, “You’ve been through a lot, and I’m not mad at you. What you can do, is _take care of yourself_. Please? I’m worried about you, but, we’re cool. Don’t worry about that. Just… do what you need to do so it won’t happen again.”

_This is going so much better than I thought it would… but what can I say?_

“I want to, really,” she haltingly replied, “I’ll talk to Ms. Hilde about it, but honestly, I didn’t even _know_ I was hitting you until it was over."

Unfazed, Luke asked, “Do you remember anything else?” As he continued with a second question, he gestured to his backpack, and grabbed it when she nudged it towards him from its spot by her feet. “You were talking to Victoria, then she went inside – do you remember that?”

“I felt something on my shoulder…”

“Yeah, that was me, Max,” Luke replied, pulling a light pink spiral notebook from his bag and handing it over to Max, “I had your notes.”

“Thanks… I d-didn’t know it was you. I thought, um, suddenly it was like I was back in the ju- um. It was like a memory, a memory of something really… scary… that happened,” she said with a shudder, “but it felt real, like it was happening again.”

Luke nodded, his voice growing solemn as he zipped up his backpack. “So you wanted to protect yourself? From, well, the scary thing?”

“I needed to p-protect her-”

“Chloe?” he asked plaintively.

She nodded. “I mean, me too, I guess… I know that sounds weird...”

“Not to me, Max,” Luke said, standing and pulling on the straps of his backpack, “It’s not ‘weird,’ it’s a flashback. I… I’m glad you told me. That’s rough- like, seriously. But I’ve seen people learn to live with stuff like that. I hope Ms. Hilde can help you out.”

“I hope so too… but I don’t know. I’m worried. Like, do I need to tell people, you know, don’t touch me, I might go all ‘HULK SMASH!’ and not even know it?” Max said, laughing nervously at her own suggestion.

“Your choice, but that’s actually not a bad idea,” Luke replied, leaning forward with a sympathetic tone in his voice. “Maybe tell your other friends, and your parents, not to tap your shoulder? Or come at you from behind?”

“Yeah...” she replied, shrinking at the thought of having to warn her family and friends.

“Max?” Luke said quietly, “About Chloe… She said you two grew up together, you were close. I just wanted to say, I’m, uh. Yeah,” he paused, bowing his head in respect before meeting Max’s eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a sigh, “D-did you know her?”

Luke nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Not like you did, but I still miss her.” Rubbing his forehead after a moment of reflection, his eyes seemed focused somewhere miles away as he added, “We can talk more, if you want, but I should probably get to class.”

“You kicking me out, too?”

“Yeah, forgive me, Evan gets picky about the room. He would’ve been upset l left you here alone,” Luke said, shaking his head quickly and composing himself. Gesturing for Max to get up and join him as he moved towards the door, he added, “But, since I heard you saved his ass from the jock squad, it’s fine. Thanks for that, by the way.” Winking at her over his shoulder, he reached for the doorknob.

Max frowned, briefly glancing at the [Save Arcadia Bay!] flyer on the wall as she picked up her messenger bag and started to walk in his direction.

“Thanks… but p-please, I didn’t ‘save’ anyone,” she said with a wince, “And I’m not exactly proud of some of the stuff I said to Zach. I’m glad Evan’s OK, though.” Seeing the confused look on his face, Max quickly tried to distract him, adding, “Um, Luke. Aren’t _you_ a jock? And why didn’t we just meet in your room?”

“ _No_ , I’m an Otter! Well, when my medical clearance goes through…” he groaned, swiftly changing the subject. “Annnyway. We met here, because ‘my room’ is across town. Off-campus living, amirite! So. Walk out with me?”

_His family doesn’t live here. I wonder how…?_

“I’m going upstairs, actually,” Max said, resisting a strong impulse to pry as they both walked out into the hall, Luke locking the door behind him, “I’m… Kate and Stella are waiting for me,”

“Take good care, Max. Just know we’re here for you,” Luke replied, adding with an upbeat and mischievous tone, “and always remember to ‘just keep sw-’”

“If you _think_ you can get away with a _Finding Nemo_ reference _at a time like this_ -!” Max said, shooting him a mock-irritated glare. Though laughter would not come, the attempt at levity still brought a welcome shift in Max’s frame of mind, the tension breaking just enough to pull herself towards the stairwell leading up to her floor.

“I think now’s _exactly_ the time to get away with it,” Luke said. Grabbing the vial from the desk before moving towards the door, he added, “And yes, Max: I forgive you.”

 

* * *

_Whew… I did_ not _think Luke would be so… chill, I guess?, about what happened_ _. N_ _ow, I just need to_ _check on_ _Kate…_

Climbing up the stairs to the second floor of the Prescott dormitory, the effort was less tiring than usual, and Max felt a weight lifted from her shoulders as Luke’s last three words repeated in her mind. Instead of staying quiet about her still-disturbing memory of the whole punching incident, she had actually faced him, actually talked it out. _And nothing bad came of it. The talking part._

As Max passed through the door from the stairwell to her hall, she immediately noticed Stella standing by Kate’s room with her back turned. Though it was nearly noon, her classmate was dressed in loose-fitting navy blue pajama pants, an oversized tan T-shirt, and blue toesocks.

She was also, apparently, not in class.

“Stella!” Max called out, “is Kate-”

She turned around, mouthing the words “ON THE PHONE” in exaggerated fashion as Max now noticed both the image on her shirt - a spaceship labeled [Serenity] – and the cell phone pressed to her ear.

“Oh! Sorry...”

Stella mouthed “SORRY” back and waived her by. As Max passed her and approached Kate’s door, she heard pieces of her classmate’s side of the conversation. “No, just… I _do_ care, and we’ll totally talk later, but things are messed up _here_ too! Please just… have you tried calling Steph? Well-”

Her words became muffled as Max entered Kate’s dimly-lit dorm, closing the door behind her. The room was much the same as she’d last seen it- blinds drawn, mirror covered, violin case and Bible both closed – though less cluttered. The biggest change in the space, so far as Max could tell, were the handful of new drawings scattered on Kate’s desk – all dark-themed pen sketches of figures running or hiding from crowds of menacing eyes.

 _Oh, Kate… I hope, at least, drawing this stuff helped you_ _get_ _through_ _yesterday_ _night…_

Kate sat at her desk, also still wearing sleep clothes, her long-sleeved T-shirt bearing the logo of a popular Portland theater company.

“Max!” Kate stopped typing on her laptop’s keyboard and rose from the desk, opening her arms wide to offer a hug, which the brunette gratefully accepted. Her voice seemed worn out and heavy with sorrow even as she strained to show her relief at her friend’s return. “Thanks again for your texts. I got worried when you mentioned that ‘trip down memory lane,’ though. Are you OK?”

“I had kind of a rude awakening, early this morning, but I think my day’s going a little better now. I’m fine,” Max said as they separated, Kate returning to her seat with a doubtful eyebrow raised while Max leaned against the desk, inadvertently looking over her friend’s shoulder at the screen. “What’s that? ‘Godspell’?”

“Oh,” Kate replied, an excited spark in her eye despite the weariness in her voice, “It’s a musical. My favorite one, actually. There’s a production opening in Portland next week.”

 _Her_ favorite _show? After all this, she so deserves to have a good tim_ _e!_

Max nodded, placing her messenger bag down by her feet and leaning it against the desk as she said, “That sounds like a great idea! When are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Kate answered, taking a long, wishful look back at the screen before closing the laptop and turning towards her friend, “I can’t really afford the tickets, and I don’t want to take the bus alone… but like Stella told me, there’s still time to figure that out.”

“Well, I hope we can find a way for you to see the show,” Max said, “You are long overdue for some fun.” Her voice growing more serious as she glanced at the drawings, she added, “I heard about last night. I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there. If… um, only answer if you want, but… how are you feeling?”

“Kinda down, and worried. Tired, too,” Kate quickly continued as Max’s face fell, “but not as awful as last night. Stella’s been so sweet, and I’m talking to Ms. Hilde this afternoon. Victoria finally took down that… that viral video, and Taylor even apologized to me!”

_I guess Victoria actually kept her word? Good._

_Doesn’t make up for spreading it in the first place, but it’s one less thing for Kate to worry about …_

“Soon, I hope it won’t feel awful at all, Kate.” _Please, please don’t let anything else hurt her…_ “But wait – you saw Taylor?” Max’s head tilted slightly in surprise as she leaned in closer.

“Yes, at breakfast. She was- actually, she was sitting at the table where we ate yesterday,” Kate said, her words gaining cadence and volume as she recounted her story, “She was just sitting, alone, like she was listening to something? Then she came up to me and said she was sorry, over and over again, and gave me a hug,” She continued, blinking in astonishment and turning her palms up, “I tried to offer my condolences for what happened to her mom, but she just went right back to talking about regret. She said she didn’t realize how much it hurt people when she… when she’s _not nice_ , that she wanted to change.”

 _I… wow. Taylor? Really?_ _I… wow._ _It’s so sad about her mom…_ _Should I talk to her, too?_

Max’s jaw hung open for several beats. “Wow, that’s… well, how do you feel about it?”

“I feel like,” Kate looked into Max’s eyes, a hopeful inflection to her words despite the dark circles under her eyes, “...maybe miracles _are_ still possible? I think she really meant what she said, Max. If someone apologizes like that, I… I think I should give her another chance.”

“Kate, it’s _so_ good to hear you say that!” Max replied, holding one hand over her own chest and gently touching the side of her friend’s shoulder with the other. Kate briefly touched her hand, her lips curving into a grateful smile.

_She’s gonna be OK, Max._

Before they could continue catching up, Stella walked back in and closed the door, her forehead creased with worry and her lips pressed into a thin, anxious line. Along with the pajamas, this reminded Max of Stella’s troubling text earlier that morning.

_She stayed up who knows how long, just being here with Kate… but what happens tonight? Stella said she wanted to talk to me, but she seems upset. Do I just… ask? Or?_

“Sorry about that, Max,” she said, sitting on the edge of Kate’s bed and clasping her hands together as she leaned forward.

“You’re fine, Stella, really!” Max said, letting her own hands fall back to her sides, “But is something wrong? Who were you talking to?”

“That was Lex. They’re, um, my sibling,” Stella said, wiping her glasses off with her hoodie’s sleeve.

… _Wait, what?_

After a slightly awkward pause, Kate and Max talked over each other in response, exchanging apologetic glances as they each finished speaking:

“‘They?’ I don’t understand-”  
“Oh… I didn’t even know you had any!”

“Hasn’t come up, I guess,” Stella replied with a shrug, putting her glasses back on, “And, yes, ‘they.’ Lex, um, doesn’t really do the whole, guy-or-girl thing.”

Max paused, several questions bubbling to the surface, but none more pressing than the one about supporting Kate. Cautiously holding her left arm with the opposite hand and swallowing her curiosity, at least for the moment, she said, “I’ll definitely try to remember that… um, if we talk, or anything. But, um, I saw your text and I wanted to know-”

“Yes! Right!” Stella said, jumping up from the bed. The worry on her face rapidly faded as she looked to Max with an enthusiastic glint in her eye. “Thank you for reminding me, Max. I talked to Kate about this, and now that you’re here… right!” Turning to Kate, she asked, “Kate, do you mind if I open the blinds?”

“I’ll get them,” Kate said, standing to adjust the blinds behind her desk before moving to the second window. Making room, Max moved to Kate’s futon, taking a seat next to the violin case.

_I miss hearing Kate play… I hope she’ll feel up to it again soon._

Stella stood across from the futon, bouncing on the balls of her feet as midmorning sunlight brightened the room. Addressing Max in a heartfelt, thoughtful tone, she said, “I know, outside of class, we haven’t talked much this year. So, thanks for trusting me, and hearing me out. I care about Kate, and I care about you, too. I think… I think we’re all in this together.”

Kate joined Max on the futon, moving her violin case onto the floor next to it, as Stella continued explaining, “Both of you are _really_ going through it right now,” she began, speaking rapidly as her words poured out, “...and I’m not gonna say ‘I know what it’s like’ because I haven’t been through the same thing. _But…_ me and Lex… well, we had it rough growing up, with our dad. We went through some serious shit together-”

_So what you said in my Nightmare, about being abused… it happened in this reality, too?_

Max cut in, her words carrying compassion from multiple timelines, “Stella, I’m so sorry! You didn’t-”

Shaking her head, Stella interrupted, “Max, thanks, really. But I didn’t say this to- I mean, what I’m trying to say, is that _we survived the worst of it_ , you know? And we had to figure out how to, like, _live_ with all these memories and the intense stuff going on in our heads,” Pausing and turning her palms up, she continued, “So… I think, maybe, I could help you out? Or, we could help _each other_ out? That’s my idea. We can share whatever we’ve learned about… about getting through something painful.”

Kate quietly nodded, turning to Max with a warm, exhausted smile.

_Kate needs this, and she’s just starting to find her optimism. I can’t just shoot this down! But there’s so much I can’t tell them…so long as Stella’s plan doesn’t involve baring my soul, maybe it couldn’t hurt?_

“That’s _really_ kind of you,” Max said, her voice wavering a bit as she continued, “Um… I think I’m in, but, what kind of ‘help’ are we talking about?”

“Well, no one here’s a therapist. Obvs. But we can listen, and we can share some like… tips and tricks, or whatever, that helped us get through the hardest parts. I learned most of mine from Lex, honestly, a couple from a therapist, and some from this support group back home.”

 _...I want to believe her,_ _I really do_ _… but what kind of “tips and tricks” could possibly help me? After the Dark Room,_ _and losing Chloe… and everything I’m going through now_ _?_

“Max?” Kate said, observing Max’s brooding, guilt-ridden expression with concern.

_But if it could help Kate…_

“Do we have to… to t-talk about, you know…,” Max haltingly replied, “I mean, I don’t know if I-”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Stella said, shaking her head knowingly. “Think of them like tools, kind of. Something that might help… like, when you’re just _feeling too much._ And it’s _not_ always about staying calm. It’s just, like… staying _here_. Other tools are good for connecting with people, or releasing emotions… but we’ll just start with the basics, you know? But I’m also here to learn – all three of us can share whatever ‘tools’ work for us.”

 _That sounds… absolutely woo_. _But I guess alternate timelines and tornado visions would sound pretty “out there” if I told anyone about th_ _em_ _? It’s… fine. Couldn’t hurt._

_For Kate. I’ll do this for Kate._

“So, when do we start?”

Before Max finished the question, Kate reached around her shoulder for a side hug, while Stella pumped her fists victoriously.

“Right now!,” Stella replied, tapping her cell phone’s screen as a soft, soothing song started playing.

* * *

“ _So don’t forget to breathe_  
_Don’t forget to breathe_  
_Your whole life is here_  
_No eleventh hour reprieve  
__So don’t forget to breathe_

 _Keep your head above water_  
_And don’t forget to breathe”_

Alexi Murdoch – [Breathe](https://youtu.be/Jad1-vxh1vQ)

* * *

“OK, so we’re gonna start with some deep breathing. Slowly bring your arms up for ‘in,’ and back down for ‘out.’ Now: _in_ , two, three, four. And _out_ , two, three, four, five, six...”

While they practiced counting out breaths, at first it felt silly, and even annoyed Max, bringing her earlier doubt and reluctance back to the surface. _Everything’s messed up, and I feel so… so_ not like myself _sometimes… how the hell is “take a deep breath”_ _and “feel the air coming in, then out”_ _supposed to help at all?_

But as Stella went on to talk about _choice,_ _control_ , and _agency,_ Max started to pay a bit more attention.

“Sometimes trauma messes with what’s going on in our brains, how our emotions work. Whatever happened, maybe we didn’t feel like we had a choice? Well, we can choose to breathe. We can choose _how_ we breathe. If we’re starting to panic, maybe we can try – not always, but sometimes – to bring in a little more oxygen and maybe that makes the next moment a little easier, and the next, and the next.”

At this moment, Max absolutely did not want to think much about the choices she’d made, or how much control she truly had over them. Focusing on each breath did, at least, seem to help push those thoughts aside.

The part about choosing to breathe, however, appealed to her. It was painfully simple, obvious even, and she was already used to taking deep breaths sometimes to calm down or steel her nerves. But doing it here, intentionally, among friends, still brought a little bit of relief.

After their breathing exercises, Stella shared another one of her “tools.” First demonstrating it herself, she picked a color, and named six objects of the same color, pointing to each as she went. “Alice’s fur, Kate’s shirt, laptop, rug, filing cabinet, and… the background of that poster.”

“Then you pick another color, and keep going as long as you need. This can be good to bring you back down to the ground if you’re remembering, or _reliving_ , an awful memory,” she continued, leisurely stretching her arms as she went on, “or if you start to feel, like, outside your own body?”

Silence filled the room as Stella paused, allowing the stillness to settle in among them. Max and Kate both nodded, and all three quietly looked at one another, quietly and hesitantly confirming their shared experience.

_Kate feels that way sometimes, too? And Stella?_

The realization that they _did_ know, they _did_ understand at least this one part of what she was going through, caught Max off-guard. _I even admitted it, I nodded, I practically_ told _them “yes I float outside my body sometimes” and they’re not like, running out of the room?_

Despite her encouraging thoughts, by this point, she started to feel increasingly uncomfortable and vulnerable with all the standing, looking, and not-talking.

“Stella?” Max finally said, grateful to break the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… both of you. This week, there’s not a lot that makes me feel…” She shook her head, unable to find the right words. “I don’t know. Just, thanks.”

“Same to you, Max,” Stella replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

 

* * *

For the next half hour, the three classmates talked casually about the tools they’d practiced, Kate explained how drawing sometimes eased feelings of despair, and Max shared how occasionally leaving class to splash water on her face helped with her anxiety. Kate was grateful and eager to keep using all she’d learned, while Max was more cautiously positive about the experience. On the topic of feeling a little relieved, and a bit less alone, there was unanimous agreement.

Before leaving for the study lounge, Stella asked Kate to check in with her in a couple hours, and all three agreed to meet again to continue trying out tools the following week. Accepting a goodbye hug from Stella, Max stayed behind to speak with Kate for the last few minutes before she needed to go to her I.E.P. meeting.

“Your parents will be at the meeting?” Kate asked as the door closed behind Stella, “And they drove all the way down from Seattle?”

“Yeah...” Max said, grabbing her messenger bag before flopping back down onto the futon, “They want me to go back with them until the… the funeral,” she looked to Kate, the protective determination in her eyes mostly obscuring the note of deep sadness, “but I said no way!”

“Max, why?” she turned to her friend, her brow knotted and a confused expression on her face, “You deserve a break from this school, more than anyone!”

“I told you I’d be here for you,” Max replied, trying to keep her voice even, “Just because I’m… dealing with some of my own issues- look, you were in a lot of pain last night. You told me you think about… about leaving,” Max took a breath, the weight of the words she couldn’t bear to speak pulling at the center of her chest, “What if that happens again? I’m not leaving you alone, not now.”

“Max, _please_ , listen to me,” Kate said in a pleading tone, “You’ve already helped more than you know. It _is_ still really hard, but you’re _not_ leaving me alone. I have Stella, and Dana, and Alyssa. I’m worried about you, too, Max. If staying with your parents means you can rest, at least...”

 _Kate_ wants _me to go…? Why would she- and what if-_

“Kate, I… are you _sure_?” Max replied, silently counting out two more deep breaths as she rose from her seat, “I don’t want to go back on what I promised...”

“You’re not, Max. I have some support here, and I know that now – because of you.”

When the two embraced for one last time before Max’s trip to Seattle, Kate’s eyes grew misty, and they promised one another they’d keep in close contact and try to rest. When Max could not delay leaving any longer without being late for the meeting, she finally waved goodbye and walked out of the dorm, past the memorials, and across campus to the main building.

 

* * *

Max shuffled into the conference room, squinting against the fluorescent lighting in the windowless space, and instantly feeling self-conscious over the many pairs of eyes watching her enter.Tiny beads of sweat formed on her brow, though she didn’t feel particularly warm. Her parents – who were greatly relieved to learn she’d decided to ride back to Seattle with them- followed her inside, closing the door behind them. A foldable round table with metallic legs stood in the center of the cramped room, surrounded by rolling office chairs, with two folded metal chairs leaned precariously against the wall nearest the door.

“Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield. And, yes, Max- thank you all for coming. Please, take a seat,” Principal Wells said from his seat against the back wall, smoothing his red tie before gesturing to the three folding chairs nearest the door. “Let us begin.”

As the Caulfields each sat down, Ms. Grant smiled warmly from her seat to the left of the Principal, neatly draping her cardigan over the back of her chair. Next to her, Mr. Cole, the Life Drawing teacher, nodded cordially while Principal Wells started off a round of introductions for the benefit of Max’s parents. Ms. Hilde, the school counselor seated to Wells’ right and the last person to introduce herself, placed a notepad on the table and uncapped her pen. Max looked up at her, but faced with the woman’s professionally polite demeanor and enigmatic gray eyes, she quickly looked away. Staring down into her lap, Max shifted uncomfortably in her seat and carefully hid her injured hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

Clearing his throat, the Principal continued, “Miss Caulfield, on behalf of the staff, faculty, and Board of Trustees, I’d like to offer our condolences for your loss and deepest sympathies for the tragic incident you witnessed on our campus two days ago.”

Something about his formal tone left Max feeling even more on edge than when she’d entered the room. _It’s bullshit_ , she thought, recalling the ways he’d covered for Nathan. _This is gonna be a long meeting…_

“We want you to know that Blackwell is already taking action to ensh- to ensure our students’ safety,” he continued. _Does no one else hear that? It’s almost noon, and he’s slurring his words!_ “...and we are prepared to make a wide range of resources available to support you and your academic success during this trying time.”

Most of the meeting continued in similarly soporific fashion, and Max struggled to remain focused as Principal Wells and Ms. Hilde talked at her on issues ranging from her GPA to keeping her scholarship, her mental health, academic accommodations, “pathways to success,” and the importance of Max “taking ownership of this process.”

_Whatever that means…_

Through mostly closed-ended questions (from the Principal and counselor) and single-word answers (from Max), they decided she would ask for a tutor through the school’s peer tutoring program, begin speaking with the school counselor weekly, visit her psychiatrist if possible during her upcoming trip to Seattle, and re-commit to her studies. Though excused from classes for the rest of the week, she would be expected to copy notes from her classmates, keep up with reading, and turn in all outstanding homework by next Friday.

_This doesn’t seem any less stressful than just going to class, even if I’m a wreck…_

They also clarified that deadline to submit to the Everyday Heroes contest had been postponed indefinitely, while Blackwell attempted to get another faculty member certified to nominate a Blackwell student’s entry.

By this point, she desperately needed a break from the stuffy, stifling conference room.

In whispers, Max counted out three deep breaths, struggling to keep her voice as unassuming as possible as she quietly asked, “Um, can I p-please be excused? I need to use the restroom.”

No one questioned whether her using the reopened restroom in the classroom building was a particularly good idea, which was just as well, because she actually stepped outside for some fresh air.

 _I don’t know how much of that I can take… or how sitting through this meeting is supposed to make_ _anything_ _better_ _?_ _Seriously, what’s the point?_

Standing outside the main building’s entrance, Max counted six red objects, starting with the brick building itself. After cycling through green and gray, she slowly dragged herself back inside. _I hope this will be over soon…_

As Max re-entered the conference room, slowly closing the door in an attempt not to draw attention, discussion turned to Jeffershit. Her jaw tightened and her heart beat rapidly as she heard the Principal addressing her parents.

“We know you may have questions about how recent events impact Max’s class schedule and other issues. Blackwell Academy respects faculty members’ rights, and the principled presumption of innocence encoded into Oregon’s laws and judicial proceedings,” Wells continued in a practiced cadence.

“Understandable,” Ryan Caulfield interjected with a nod, thoughtfully stroking his beard. “Seems fair enough to me.”

_**Clinggg!** _

The two metal chairs clattered to the floor with a reverberating ring, Max having knocked them over on her way to her seat. Cheeks red with embarrassment over her faux pas and disbelief at her dad’s words, she slid into her chair without a word.

Seeing the quizzical expression on his wife’s face- as well as Mrs. Grant’s and Mr. Cole’s attempts to hide their incredulity, Max’s dad continued, “Look, at the sports desk we talk about it all the time. These stories come out, guy’s famous or riiiight about to get his big break, suddenly, here come the accusations. Now, sure, some will check out. But if we’re gonna protect good men from damaging lies, formally, we can’t be too quick to judge! We’ve got to let the courts decide, if it comes to that.”

He didn’t seem to notice his daughter staring at him, wide-eyed, her leg shaking furiously under the table as her jaw tightened. _How can he…? “_ _Damaging lies_ _…” Ugghhh nonono no what gives, Dad? That...he...Jeffershit KIDNAPPED us! He was about to KILL me!_

_If you don’t believe Kate, or any of the other...um… victims…_

_Would you believe me?_

How could her dad agree with Principal Wells? Ever since she’d tried to report Nathan’s gun to him during That Week, and looked through the files in his office, she more-or-less expected the worst from the Principal. Covering for another murderer on campus wouldn’t surprise her.

 _But even if Wells is super corrupt… I thought I could trust_ you, _Dad…?_

She wanted to be _done_ with this meeting, this whole charade.

As Wells’ voice interrupted her thoughts, Max focused on his ostentatiously red tie to avoid meeting his eyes. “That said, Max, Mr. Jefferson is on temporary leave and will no longer be serving as your academic adviser. Unfortunately, every member of our Arts Department already has a full schedule of advisees. So, you have been assigned to Ms. Grant, who will work with Mr. Cole on matters specific to your Arts goals and courses.”

With a grudging nod to each of the two teachers, Max stared back down into her lap with a frustrated huff as Wells continued droning on, his words closely resembling the school’s press statement, except for the occasional slurred syllable.

When it was finally over, Max’s parents expressed their surprise and disappointment at her “attitude” during the meeting, promising to “talk about it in the car” on their way back to Seattle. Leaving her on campus to pack and attend her first agreed-upon counseling session, they assured her they still loved and cared about her, and promised to text later that afternoon when they were ready to pick her up.

 

* * *

“How are you feeling right now?” Ms. Hilde sipped her tea, watching Max from over the cup as she awaited a response. An empty cup sat on a coffee table before Max, offered and untouched.

Max shrugged her shoulders, sinking a little in the big comfy chair.

“I dunno.”

Before she’d even entered the room, their counseling relationship had started on a… cold, distant footing. Max had been presented with a clipboard full of forms and rather invasive questionnaires to fill out as she sat in the hallway outside the office.

 _At least I’m not stuck here between classes, with everyone in the halls,_ she’d thought with a groan.

Already emotionally spent from the I.E.P. meeting, it took every measure of focus and concentration she had left to attempt to fill the forms completely, and answer the questions honestly, as she’d been instructed. Just as Max finished signing a form assuring privacy and confidentiality in her counseling sessions, Taylor Christensen had exited the counselor’s office, cryptically telling Max “Don’t trust her, and don’t fucking tell her anything,” before walking back towards her locker.

 _The hell…? Wh_ _at_ _does she_ _even_ _want me to_ _hide_ _? Is this more Vortex Club BS…? Ugh, and after what Kate said- I wanted to believe she really changed…_

Moments later, Ms. Hilde had called her in and started to read through the forms.

Now, the noise machine filled the space between them, an unpleasant reminder of the times this week that Max had felt overwhelmed, lost control, and heard maddening radio static echo in her head. Ms. Hilde looked expectantly at Max, holding her gaze on the silent girl while she tried to distract herself by looking around the small, dark, fastidiously clean office.

_So if I don’t talk, she just… sits there? Staring?_

After several millennia of silence, Max caved.

“I guess… I know I should feel sad? Angry? She meant so m-much to me, I should f-feel…” In a muted, distant way, she felt a wave of shame crashing against her defenses when she realized Ms. Hilde had witnessed her stuttering.

As she replied, the counselor jotted down a few words on her notepad. “Max, after a loss, or witnessing what you did, people react in many different ways. There’s no wrong answer here, OK?”

_Somehow this felt so much less… weird… coming from Stella._

“That’s the thing,” Max said, the words slowly and reluctantly. “I _didn’t_ react. I could’ve… I just sat there. I… I let it happen. I let her…” Max’s voice trailed off, and she collapsed all her weight back into the chair and staring at the back wall to avoid eye contact.

_Careful. Can’t tell her what that really means. Can’t believe I said that much… wonder if school counselors can just drop you? “No, sorry, this one’s too damaged.” Or, “this one’s pretty much a monster.” “Please cancel all future appointments.”_

_Ugh… wish I could take that back. I_ really _need to_ _watch what I say_ _!_

Max sighed, finally looking back in the counselor’s direction, though still avoiding the eyes.

“I know this can be hard to talk about. But you’re doing great! Thank you for taking the first step with me,” Ms. Hilde said, taking a sip of tea from her mug. “Now, today is just our introductory session. I _do_ want to know how you’re feeling, and we’ll have more time in future sessions to talk about what happened. But I want you to know that what you told me, it’s a normal reaction. Some call it ‘survivor’s guilt.’ If you want, we can talk more about it-”

“Just… how is this supposed to help, exactly? Seeing you, I mean,” Max cut in, an irritated edge to her voice. “Back in Seattle I saw Dr. Hank and he was all about, you know. Count to ten. Tense and release, tense and release. Is that, um, what we’re doing here?”

Placing her empty teacup down with perfect composure, Ms. Hilde replied, “Well, part of that is actually up to you. I think when you come back we should talk more about your goals for counseling. What do _you_ want to get out of these sessions? Do you want to work on healthy coping strategies? Building a support network? Changing your patterns, how you react? For some students, setting those goals is still too overwhelming. It can be helpful just to have a safe place to share what’s on your mind. You don’t have to decide, and our time is almost up for today – but think about it.”

“Um, fine, I guess. So today was just saying hello?” Under her breath, she added, “Does this school care about helping anyone? Ever?”

Apparently hearing the full extent of her grumbling, Ms. Hilde calmly replied, “Sometimes, when we’ve been through a loss, we search for someone to blame. There’s no shame in having feelings like that, but we have to distance ourselves from them: just because we have a feeling, that doesn’t mean it’s _true_. Now is a time to focus on yourself, Max, and what _you_ need to recover. If you catch yourself falling back into the blame game, try to do something positive for yourself, like taking a sip of water. Can you do that for me?”

“ _The blame game?” But… someone_ _ **is**_ _to blame! Nathan shot her! Wells helped hide all his warning signs! And hired Jeffershit! This school is full of crap, and you’re telling me it’s “time to focus on_ _myself_ _?” Lady, you don’t know the first thing about time…_

Somewhere behind Max’s spinning, resentful thoughts, she was deeply unsettled by Ms. Hilde’s words, though she couldn’t quite place why. She _did_ need to care for herself – Kate told her so. And maybe – _maybe –_ she judged people too quickly sometimes.

But was it really wrong to place blame on the school? At least a little bit?

Was that really just some reaction to _“_ _going through a loss”_?

“Sure,” Max muttered, walking out the door without a single look back on her way to the dorms.

 

* * *

As Max walked down the hall to her room, still feeling uneasy about the counseling session, she heard the gentle hum of the heating system and her own footsteps. Each door was closed, its occupants apparently either asleep, in class, or both. Against the disconcerting quiet, other sounds grew louder by comparison: the knob turning, the door closing, her own breaths and heartbeats.

_At least that’s over._

Her eyes drifted to the nightstand next to her bed, where her journal lay open, still turned to yesterday’s entry, dated [ _October 8, 2013 (again)_ ].

“‘I wish she was here. I wish I could talk to her,’” Max read aloud, reflecting on the dream she’d had last night and how painfully real it felt, “‘Please, please let me go back…,’ I get it, ok? Be careful what you wish- blah, blah, blah.”

A chill ran through her as she closed the journal, tucking it into her messenger bag. Still thinking of the journal and the memorials, Max removed a photograph from her wall and a patch of cloth from her drawer, trying not to gaze to long at them before placing both alongside her phone in the bag.

_OK, time to focus. Just concentrate on packing, Max._

Dropping her messenger bag onto the floor, she pulled a small rolling luggage from under her bed and began to search her dresser and closet for clothing to add in. She felt tightness return to her chest as she placed the first pair of shirts in, and paused to sit on her bed until the feeling passed.

_It’s OK. It’s just a couple days._

Ever since her family first moved to Seattle, the act of packing made Max exceptionally anxious, sometimes throwing her into a panic. Even a weekend trip or visiting her grandparents could bring on the feeling – and this time, thoughts of the memorials outside and the coming weekend’s funeral did not help. Yet five years of experience had also taught Max to expect this particular flavor of anxiety, to recognize it, and how to at least try to stay focused.

Taking a deep breath, she reached over and turned on her stereo, quickly reading its digital display before continuing to pack her bags.

* * *

“ _No matter which way you go_  
_No matter which way you stay_  
_You're out of my mind, out of my mind  
__Out of my mind, out of my mind_

 _I was walking with a ghost_  
_I said please, please don't insist_ ”  
  
Tegan and Sara – [Walking With a Ghost](https://youtu.be/jtCGODjuRq0)

* * *

Quietly singing along and moving more swiftly with the music to keep her company, Max was soon zipping up the luggage, reasonably confident that she had everything she needed. Next, she placed her guitar into its case, and leaned both the luggage and the guitar case against the wall near the door. Glancing at her phone, she noted that she did not have any new messages from her dad.

_He said he’d text when they were on their way. Maybe I can clean up a little before we go?_

Turning to her mirror, Max looked into her reflection and began brushing her hair with a sigh. Her eyes looked as numb and empty as she’d felt for most of the last two days. Although her conflicted feelings about the counseling session had already faded, her cheeks were a shade too pale, drawing even more attention to the dark circles under her eyes.

While Max continued brushing, suddenly her reflection stopped, instead placing its hands on its hips in a defiant stance.

“Hello, zombie face,” Other Max smugly sneered.

“Wowser! … wait, no,” Max replied, her brush dropping onto her Keep Calm and Carry On throw rug with a dull thud. “No, this can’t be real...”

“You owe me an apology. Last time you saw me, you threw a damn camera at my face! _Rude._ ”

Max blinked, though her reflection’s eyes remained open, fixed in an accusing glare. After a moment, the dots began to connect. _I saw you, just before I blacked out… Victoria said the mirror was already shattered, and my camera…_ “ _You_ taunted me! You said I let her die!”

Max regretted taking the bait as soon as the words left her lips. _Ugh, what am I doing? It’s your mind playing tricks again, Caulfield… you don’t_ argue _with figments of your imagination!_

“So you tried to break my face?” Other Max rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Are you _that_ afraid to face the truth?”

“I’m not doing this. No way, not after this morning.” With her less-injured right hand, Max began pinching the skin of her left arm. _Wake up, please… it’s just another messed up dream._ Feeling the distant ache and a growing discomfort from her swollen knuckles, she instead began pressing her thumbnail into her arm with increasing pressure.

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than _THAT_ _!_ _,_ ” her reflection said derisively.

“No, no, no, no, no….” Max continued repeating the word as she began pulling open drawers. Satisfied, she moved back across the room towards the mirror and her reflection’s sardonic laughter.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever?” Other Max’s voice was tinged with disappointment as Max draped a towel over the mirror, obscuring her reflection. “We all make mistakes, Max. You can’t keep running from what you’ve done! You can’t keep running from _me_!”

Grabbing her messenger bag, guitar case, and rolling luggage, Max glanced at the hairbrush on the floor and shook her head, leaving it and trying to ignore Other Max’s voice on her way out.

 

* * *

Walking quickly out to the hall, Max closed the door behind her with more force than she’d realized, jumping as it slammed shut. She waited and watched the door for several tense moments, preparing to press her weight against it, as though Other Max might jump through the mirror and follow her.

Eventually convinced she was safe, Max leaned back against the wall, counting out her breaths just the way she’d practiced with Stella, and trying to clear her mind.

 _It’s OK… I’m OK. That did_ not _just happen. It was… I’ve just been through a lot and it’s some kind of… I don’t know? I’ll be fine._ _We’re leaving soon,_ _I’ll be OK if I can just-_

The sound of sobbing snapped Max out of her thoughts. Turning to look down the hall for its source, she saw that all of the doors were still closed, but she recognized the voice instantly.

_Dana…?_

Walking up to Dana’s door, Max knocked lightly.

“Hey, Dana. It’s me.”

“Come in,” she replied, sniffling.

Inside, the ceiling light was off and the blinds were closed, leaving only the desk lamp to see by, casting shadows along the walls and floor. Leaving her belongings by the door, Max crossed the room to stand near the desk where her friend sat leaning over a tear-stained scrapbook, one arm propping her head up while the other slowly turned a page. Her hair loosely pulled back, Dana wore a black V-neck shirt and, so far as Max could tell, no make-up.

Looking down at the photos, the freckled brunette gasped.

“I’m sorry Max, I should’ve-” Dana said as two teardrops fell, splashing onto the page.

“No- it’s OK. I… I want to see, if that’s alright?”

In the photo on the left page, a dark-blonde-haired Chloe was dressed in an elaborate costume with a black birdlike feathered headpiece, standing on stage and facing the second person in the photograph. This figure, dressed in black with a horned headpiece and some kind of staff in hand, knelt at Chloe’s feet and looked up at her. Off to the right, a younger-looking Dana in a white dress lay on the stage with her eyes closed.

 _Wow… Chloe looks so different. And she’d_ never _wear that! Did she lose some ki_ _n_ _d of dare? Must be… she_ never _backed down from a dare!_

“What…? When was this? You knew Chloe?”, Max hesitantly asked, surprised and uncertain what to make of the photo.

“Drama Club, circa 2010,” Dana said, gingerly running a finger along the edge of the photo as she wistfully added, “The Tempest.”

“I… I guess she never told me she was in Drama Club. Or, well, _any_ Blackwell activity…” Max said.

“Oh, no, Rachel pulled her in at the last minute. Juliet and her understudy were both stuck because the roads were closed, so Chloe played Ariel. And Max… she was incredible! Her and Rachel both… that night was _magical_ for all of us.” Dana’s began to cry again, flipping the scrapbook to the next page before turning to face Max.

The smaller girl opened her arms wide, waiting for Dana’s subtle nod of approval before wrapping her friend in a hug. By now, Max barely had to think about being careful with her injured hands – it happened out of habit.

“Rachel was my friend, Max. We went over lines, planned the cast parties… she introduced me to my dance instructor. I’m sorry I never knew Chloe well. But I can’t believe they’re both… and the _way_ they…” Dana’s words trailed off as she pulled back, grabbing a tissue from a box on the desk.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Dana,” Max replied, focusing on her breath as her deeply disturbing memory of the junkyard flashed across her mind and quickly, mercifully, faded away again.

_Hold it together, Caulfield…_

Until now – and despite the previous night’s tempestuous hall meeting, Luke’s comments, and Kate’s ongoing struggle – Max hadn’t thought much about how the week’s events impacted most other students. Yet from the balled-up tissues that nearly filled Dana’s waste bin, to her reddened eyes and the slight strain in her voice, Max knew that her friend had been crying her eyes out.

_She’s supported me in so many ways this week… least I can do is be here for her now._

Thinking back to Kate’s room that morning, Max asked, “Um, Dana, do you mind if I open the blinds?” Dana nodded quietly, tossing another tissue into her waste bin, as Max continued. “Is there… is there anything you need?”

As Max rose and twisted the plastic rod, letting the pale wash of afternoon sunlight drift in, Dana replied, “Maybe just, turn on the stereo? It’s kind of a moody song, so like, don’t tell anyone.” Her cheerless laugh only proved to Max even more clearly that she was hurting.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Max said, hitting the [Play] button and glancing at the display.

[Paramore – [Misguided Ghosts](https://youtu.be/oGWeHPK3NC4)]

As Dana dried her eyes and hummed along to the tune, she picked up a small bottle of dark red Qwik-Dri nail polish and asked, “Max, do you mind if I open this? Kinda helps distract me.”

“No, go ahead,” Max replied as her friend started to paint her nails, unperturbed by the strong chemical smell now filling the room. The scent gave Max an idea, and she asked, “Actually, you have any blue polish? That I could, um, keep?”

“Um, sure,” Dana replied, sliding a bottle across the desk to where Max stood. “Didn’t think you were into… I mean, I’ve never seen you-”

“Yeah… it’s for the memorial.”

“Oh… well, sure. All yours,” Dana said, wiping away newly forming tears with the back of her hand.

After pocketing the blue polish, Max’s focus drifted back to the photo album, where two more photographs of Chloe stared back up from among more Drama Club photos. In the first, Chloe sat in a crowded backstage area wearing full costume and make-up: lips stretched into a sarcastic grin, hand thrust towards the camera, middle finger emphatically raised.

“Heh,” Max puffed out air in surprise at the familiar gesture, though the sight failed to lighten her mood.

As Dana looked over at the sound, Max’s eyes were drawn to the other picture of Chloe, still dressed in her blue and black costume. She sat alone in the make-up area, her right side awash in bright light from the nearby mirrors, with a cigarette tucked behind one ear and peaking out from behind her dark blonde hair. With her makeup and headpiece removed, she was leaning back in the chair with a wide, blissful smile on her face.

_She looks so… so happy. And, wowsers, that costume really brought out her eyes…_

“You loved her,” Dana stated with certainty, causing Max to look up from the album in shock, hoping her longing admiration might remain well-masked by her blank expression.

_YES YES DING-DING-DING! CORRECT._

_I_ _**love** _ _her._

 _But I never told_ anyone _at Blackwell…_

“What…? Ch-Ch-Chloe?” she replied, stunned by Dana’s directness. “How did you-”

“And something changed between you just before… before Monday,” Dana continued, her voice gentle yet lacking any doubt, “…does anyone else know? That must be so hard. I’m sorry, Max.”

Dana waited patiently, giving her friend space and quietly watching while she put away the red nail polish. Max left the scrapbook to sit on Dana’s futon, her friend following at a respectful distance. The freckled brunette’s heart was suddenly pounding, her thoughts swept into a whirlwind of self-conscious worries.

 _How does she know? How? I mean I didn’t_ not _want her to know… I don’t want to keep hiding how I felt, what me and Chloe had… what we could’ve had… but how can I tell anyone, when it never happened in this timeline? Ugh that doesn’t matter now! Dana knows! She knows!_

“Max? Hey, girl, it’s OK. Really,” Dana said, gesturing and waiting for Max’s approval before placing her hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder as she sat next to her.

_Here goes… everything…_

“You ever have a crush on your best friend?” Max asked, quavering words continuing to rush out before Max could hesitate or Dana could reply, “I was shy growing up – I know, big shocker – but I was building up my nerve, or whatever, to tell her, when… when her dad died, and I moved.”

She let out a deep, shuddering sigh, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to-” Dana began to say, tenderly rubbing Max’s arm.

“I came to Blackwell, and I was so… ugh. I _waited._ Too long. We found each other, finally said how we really felt, but it was right b-before…” Max stared directly ahead, her mind drifting towards a memory of soft lips, blue hair under a worn beanie, and a desperate embrace, facing the twisting gyre of wind, water, and debris.

“ _I’ll always love you… Now, get out of here, please! Do it before I freak.”_

Dana’s voice broke through the tumult, calling Max back to the comfortable futon, melancholy music, and comforting touch of her friend. “You shouldn’t have to, like, _hold_ all this alone, Max.”

“Th-thanks,” Max replied, turning to face Dana. “It means a lot to hear that. But… how d-did you know? It’s kinda freaking me out that you just… guessed?”

“I know your secret, guess it’s only fair to tell you mine,” Dana said, withdrawing her hand and searching Max’s eyes with her own, “It’s… it’s something I haven’t told _anyone_.”

_That doesn’t sound like the secret I already know…?_

“I won’t say anything, promise.” Max assured her.

Dana looked to the ceiling, gathering her thoughts, before meeting Max’s eyes again. “So- I know this will sound, um, hard to believe. But this is serious, OK?” Max nodded, and Dana continued, “Couple weeks ago, I walk into the study lounge and Stella’s there, typing away. Totally focused. She doesn’t even look up. But I see, like, this _energy_ all around her – violet, and shimmering. And when I see it, I know she’s frightened… It’s hard to explain, but I just _know_. Violet means scared.”

_She saw Stella’s ‘energy’? Ohhhhkay._

_She’s really trusting me here, though. And, I mean, I used to jump through photos. So. I should try to keep an open mind…_

“I’m listening, Dana. Did you find out if you were right?”

Dana stood up and began pacing the room as she described her experience, gesturing with her arms and unfurling her wrists with a flourish as she continued. “I talked to her and it took a while before she was ready to open up, but she told me that, yeah, she’d had a terrible nightmare and still felt shaky. We’ve both been at Blackwell for years, but that was the first time we really _talked_ , you know?”

_Ok… I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe that’s just what it’s like, if you’re really intuitive?_

“Stella seems nice,” Max said tactfully, “I’m glad you talk now. Is that, um, energy thing- is that what you wanted to tell me?”

Shaking her head, Dana replied, “Max, it kept happening. I see people’s – _auras_ , I call them – I see their auras sometimes when I’m sitting in class, walking down the hall, whatever. I can’t really control it, I swear! This week, your auras have mostly been very faint,” she paused, looking to Max, a mix of awe and sorrow in her voice, “But not when you’ve mentioned Chloe. And when you looked at that photo- I _knew_. Strongest, brightest aura anyone’s had, so far. I could _see_ that you loved her.”

“I do,” Max said quietly, trying to sound more casual as she detoured from the topic of _her_ auras and _her_ feelings. “That’s… only slightly creepy. Thanks for telling me. That sounds intense, though. Are you- I mean. Are you OK?”

Grabbing Trevor’s jacket from the back of her desk chair and slipping it on, Dana replied, “I mean… this week? Seeing how everyone’s feeling so torn apart from all the shit that went down? It really hurts to see my friends suffering, more than I ever knew.”

Giving Max a sympathetic look, she continued, “I feel horrible saying this, but it’s also _exhausting!_ I really _do_ care… But sometimes it’s just too much.” Reclaiming her seat next to Max, Dana added, “And… and it feels almost like reading someone’s diary. It’s their personal business. It should be _their_ choice, _your_ choice, to tell me how you’re feeling. Or not.”

 _That sounds_ _way too hardcore for_ anyone _to deal with_ _. And, kind of, a huge responsibility?_

_Probably a good thing Dana has this power, and not someone much more inquisitive…_

Hoping to lighten the mood, Max replied, “So… Guess I shouldn’t ask for the inside scoop on our classmates’ deepest desires and fears?”

“ _No_ , you nosy brat!” She let out a relieved giggle before adding, “Thank you, by the way. You’re being so cool about this! You actually believe me, and that’s- just, thanks. I was so afraid to tell anyone, and now it’s like- I don’t know, it’s easier now that I know you know.”

_Focus, Max. Dana is your friend, and she just told you she has powers!_

_You know it can be useful, and you know exactly how lonely and scary that can be…_

“Well… Don’t give me too much credit,” Max said, “I have another secret that’s, kinda, hard to keep.”

Dana lifted her eyebrow, raising her arm and making a circular “go on” motion with her hand.

_Whoa… maybe this isn’t the best idea? What do I do if she doesn’t believe me?_

_What do I do if she_ does _?_

_When I came in here, she was in mourning… and her own powers seem like such a heavy burden._

_Now is really not the time to add to her pain._

_On the other hand, we do trust each other, now._

_It would mean so much to finally tell someone, someone in this reality, some of what haunts me. Plus: she asked._

_Maybe…?_

“Dana, it’s… it’s some real-life sci-fi shit. And there’s not exactly a happy ending...”

“Max, you are being _such_ damn tease! Just spill, already!”

“You’re sure?”

“Max!”

_How do I even start? “It was a dark and Stormy vision…”?_

_Ugh… no more overthinking. Out with it. Go._

With a deep breath, Max began in a grave tone, “The first time Nathan shot Chloe-”

“The _first…_?”

“I… I found out I could rewind time,” Max continued, “But I can’t anymore.”

Breathlessly, with her pitch rising by the end of her question, Dana excitedly asked “You’re telling me Max Caulfield – sweet, shy little hipster-retro-photo Max – is a _time-traveler_? Shut! Up!”

 _G_ _lad_ _Dana’s_ _apparently feeling better_ _, but I wish_ _she wasn’t so… into this._ _I guess, for her, t_ _he_ multiple shootings _part hasn’t sunk in yet…_

“ _Was,”_ Max said, her voice hushed and aching with regret, “And, please, keep your voice down?”

“When- I mean how? Max, you’ve _got to_ tell me more!”

Checking the time and noting the lack of new messages on her phone, Max began to tell Dana an abbreviated version of what happened That Week, pausing several times to take deep breaths, accept a hug, or listen to music. She also stopped for Dana’s questions, feeling reassured that her classmate was _also_ outraged by Wells’ cover-ups, Frank’s threats, and Jeffershit’s… everything. Though Max tried to hold back on the more gruesome details of what she witnessed and discovered, Dana still shed tears several times – especially as the tale came to its end.

It pained Max to see how much her words upset Dana, yet at the same time, it felt _so good_ to finally tell someone. To be listened to, and believed.

“...you woke up _there_? In the Dark Room? What did he d-”

“I don’t remember it all, and… and…. and I _really_ d-don’t want to think about it.”

“…that had to be awful, Max,” Dana said with a sniffle, “All of it. I’m so sorry. If you ever _do_ want to talk about _any_ of this, I’m here, OK?”

“Thanks,” Max said, her voice heavy with regret.

Looking out the window, then back to Max, Dana said, “At the lighthouse, the two of you… you chose to save us all? That’s… Max. _Thousands_ of people are alive because of you! Talk about Everyday Her-”

“NO!,” Max shouted, causing Dana to recoil against the far end of the futon with the sudden force of her outburst. Lowering her voice, she said, “I’m… I’m sorry. Please, just don’t… don’t say that. Don’t _call me_ that.”

“You love her,” Dana said, the tragic realization causing her voice to break. “Oh, Max…”

_It should’ve been me, not her… if it had to be anyone, it should’ve been me…_

“Anyway. I really don’t know if it’s still gonna come,” Max said, biting her bottom lip as she turned away, “We didn’t have snow on Monday, or an eclipse yesterday, so that’s a good sign… I think? But I don’t know for sure.”

Dana stood and grabbed two bottles of water sitting atop her dresser, saying, “Stop me if you don’t want to talk about this anymore, I mean, I’d _totally_ get that. But, should we… I don’t know, don’t we need to _warn_ people? Just in case?”

Accepting a bottle from her friend and taking a long sip, Max replied, “I want to, but- Dana, it’s not in the forecast. What would we even say? ‘I saw it in the other timeline?’ ‘I had a vision?’ No one’s gonna take that seriously.”

“There’s gotta be _something_ we can do,” Dana said, taking a large gulp of water and leaning back against the wall opposite Max. “So… all the things you saw in that other reality, the people you talked to… it’s not all the same, this week?”

“No, it’s not…” _how could it be? She’s gone..._ Max squinched her eyes shut, blinking away the thought, and finished off her water. _“_ For one thing, here, I guess the Vortex Club is targeting Evan? Do you know what that’s about?”

“Ugh, yeah,” Dana replied, taking a smaller sip. “I heard about that. Things are getting weird in the Vortex right now. Nathan’s persona non grata, obviously. But his dad is gonna keep funding the parties, throwing money at the school, and helping members ‘meet the right people’ or whatever, even though he completely disowned Nathan. So now everyone’s like, ‘if you come after the Prescotts, you’re coming after the Vortex’ and… yeah, no, I don’t get it at all. The skaters have _way_ less drama!”

“Yeah, well, I guess we have _two_ storms to worry about then.” When Dana mentioned skaters, Max noticed the jacket she was once again wearing and asked, “So…are you gonna tell Trevor about your powers?”

“Eventually, yeah,” Dana said, finishing off her water as a tiny crease formed across her forehead, “I’ve been thinking about that. But I mean, we haven’t been together that long, and we _just_ went public. It’s...”

“Complicated?”

They both laughed, tossing their empty water bottles into the recycling bin.

“For now I just want to get ready for this decorations committee meeting,” Dana said, pointing to the boxes of Halloween decorations stacked on her futon and on the floor. “With everything that’s happened, all the heavy shit people are dealing with… filling the halls with ghouls ‘n’ ghosts is how _I_ want to deal, you know? We all deserve to have a little fun!”

_Huh… specters, phantoms, silly toy skeletons… kinda the last thing I want to see at Blackwell…_

“Then you should go for it,” Max said, inwardly wincing and bracing herself against one of the boxes as she stood up from the futon. “But I should probably get going.”

“Kate told me you’re off to Seattle?” Dana asked, smiling despite Max’s apologetic nod, “I’m happy for you, Max. I mean, we’ll miss you, but I really hope it’ll help. And thanks for coming to talk. I feel _a lot_ better.”

Spreading her arms and gesturing for Max to come in for a hug, she accepted without hesitation, holding the embrace longer than she’d expected, yet still feeling comfortable.

“Yea… Kate can be very persuasive,” Max said, slinging her messenger bag over one shoulder and her guitar case over the other. “Thanks for- for _everything_. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the last couple days without you. I’m… I’m glad we’re friends, Dana.”

“Me too,” Dana said, beaming as she added, “Um, you want a hand with any of that?”

“Thanks, but it’s okay. The parking lot isn’t that far,” Max replied, opening the door. “But can I ask one little favor?

“Anything, Max.”

“Do you mind watering Lisa while I’m gone?” Without responding, Dana pursed her lips to one side and narrowed her eyes. Seeing the look on her face, Max added, “Sorry- my plant, Lisa! In my room?”

“Oh!” Dana said, covering her mouth as she laughed, “Of course, Max- if you’ll do one thing for me.” Max nodded, as Dana moved to the door and held it open for her. “Text me when you get in? And keep in touch. Just want to know you’re OK.”

“I will.”

 

* * *

_Did that really just happen?_

_She knows about my Rewind… and nothing bad came of it. She trusted me enough to tell me she sees fucking auras! She knows about me and Chloe, and other timelines, and she believes me. She believes me!_

“ _We’re all in this together,” Stella said. Maybe… maybe we can be?_

The conversation with Dana had been a much-needed moment of connection and recognition, a welcome and unexpected respite from her flashbacks, her doppelganger, her sense of isolation…

As Max was quickly learning, though, reality always had a way of creeping back in.

It would _never_ let her forget, not for long.

Knowing what she’d find just outside the building, Max sighed as she carried her luggage out the front door and down the steps, placing it down on the footpath before turning to face the memorials.

[RACHEL]      [CHLOE]

_Deep breaths, Max. You can do this… you need to do this._

Feeling a familiar tightness at the center of her chest, Max left her guitar case next to the luggage and stepped out onto the grass, bending down to light a candle at each memorial. At Chloe’s, she pulled the bottle of blue nail polish from her pocket, using it to draw a heart and a butterfly on the skateboard deck, and another of each on the posterboard. Hands shaking, she twisted the cap back on and placed the bottle next to Chloe’s photo.

Next, she opened her messenger bag, carefully pulling out the photograph and the patch of cloth she’d taken from her room. The photo was an image of Chloe, aged 14, standing on her backyard swing set in a pirate hat and peering excitedly through a spyglass as she pointed off to a far horizon. Pushing aside a few fallen leaves to make room, Max leaned the photo against the posterboard, next to the skateboard. By its side, Max added the black patch, making sure the side with the skull-and-crossbones was visible.

_For you, Captain Bluebeard._

For several small eternities, Max stood silently staring, rooted to the spot. The world around her blurred out of focus, leaving only her and the items clustered onto the ground and against the brick wall, including the blue-eyed yearbook photo staring back at her.

Wave after wave of pirate adventure memories and hushed sleepover heart-to-hearts crashed against the walls surrounding her heart, still failing to topple them. Her photographer’s eye took in the memorials, burning every detail into memory, until she could no longer bear to look.

To turn away felt like another betrayal.

_But what else can I do?_

_I’m sorry…_

 

* * *

Counting out another deep breath, she gathered her belongings and slowly walked on, her legs heavy and her feet dragging. Rolling her luggage to stop when she reached her destination, she set her messenger bag and guitar cases down, taking a seat on the low wall near the parking lot to wait for her parents to arrive. With a frown, she realized she’d left her phone and earbuds in the bag, but decided not to try retrieving them.

_Dad will probably pull up as soon as I start searching…_

Suddenly, an old model blue sedan pulled into the parking lot. Recognizing the vehicle, Max bit her lip and looked back towards her dorm building.

 _This is… too much._ _I don’t want to deal with talking to_ anyone _right now…_ As the car parked on the far end of the lot and its engine cut off, Max couldn’t muster the effort to move and avoid him, reluctantly staying in place as he approached.

“That’s some nice luggage you got there,” Warren said with a nervous laugh.

 _Even hearing his voice again… it’s beyond surreal._ The last time Max had seen Warren, he was oddly inebriated after one drink at the End of the World Party. The time before that, he was gathering medical supplies at the Two Whales during the Storm _and telling me I caused the damn thing…_

“Uh, thanks? It’s for, um,” she looked up at him, shrugging off a distant tug of guilt for ignoring his texts in this timeline, “My parents are gonna swoop in, whisk me back to Seattle...”

A dejected look crossed his face as he asked, “You’re leaving?”

“Just for a couple days.” Max looked back down, watching her legs kick awkwardly against the low wall.

_He can’t take a hint, but he’s not like… an asshole. Still, I just want to be alone til they get here…_

“Oh...good! I mean. If you think it’s good? If there’s anything you need, please-”

“I know, Warren,” Max interjected, more abruptly than she’d intended. “But thanks.”

Both fell silent for a long moment, Warren reaching behind his head and scratching at his scalp while Max continued staring down at her shoes.

_More déjà vu… what were we doing out here, anyway?_

“Oh!” Max exclaimed, looking up at him, “Um, thanks for lending me your flash drive. Dana borrowed it, but she promised she’ll get it back to you soon.”

“Oh…,” he replied, crestfallen, “Well when you get back, if you’re up for it, maybe we could-”

_**Honk!** _

As the black Prius pulled up to the empty space directly in front of a startled Max, she could see the bearded figure in the driver’s seat tipping his head back and obliviously roaring with laughter. She motioned for Warren to step aside, and hopped down from her place on the wall. Slinging her messenger bag strap over one shoulder, her guitar case over the other, and rolling her luggage up to the car door, she said, “Gotta run. Thanks again for the flash drive. Talk soon!”

“Yeah, no problem. Safe travels, Max.”

Warren waved halfheartedly as the Caulfields’ car pulled away, Max returning the gesture and, with a twinge of guilt, turning to face away from the school as they pulled out of the Blackwell visitors’ lot.

_What else can I do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Special thanks to escherlat for beta reading! I super-appreciate kudos, constructive criticism, positive feedback, and general non-mean-spirited comments :)
> 
> So, I know there were emotionally rough moments in this chapter, and hope each of you is doing OK. Please take care! I’ve hoped that some of Max’s moments of connection, forgiveness, etc might help.
> 
> Aura is also a pretty long chapter, and it was a monster to edit! Hopefully, all future chapters, will be a bit shorter! Over the next chapters we'll start seeing less set-up/character intros, and more plot - so stay tuned ;)
> 
> Oh and hey... have I mentioned some people might have powers? ;)
> 
> I want to clarify some issues about how mental health and mental health treatment are addressed in Solstice. Since this is a fic, not a PSA, some characters may have mixed or negative experiences and opinions regarding therapy, medication, or other treatments. Non-professional, unsupervised peer support is shown in a positive light. These aspects of the story are not meant as advice, and are not meant to invalidate anyone who benefits from therapy, meds, etc. If you live with mental health struggles, hey me too, and we all deserve whatever support we determine is right for us!
> 
> Relatedly, in this chapter the word “insane” is used in a possibly disparaging way. As with my CH1 note, I chose to include this because it is a direct quote from game dialogue, but it was a difficult decision and I’m still trying to improve on this in my writing.


	4. Harbringer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solstice Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2HC8FqI  
> Content note: grief, drinking, mental health struggle, harmful family dynamics, natural disaster, and non-specific mention of heavy LiS plot points (kidnapping, drugging, assault, ending, etc)

**Song: Eduard Frolov EFG –** [ **She Saw The Storm** ](https://youtu.be/24m7ensD1vg)

* * *

[Another Great Day in]  
[ARCADIA BAY!]  
[thank you come again]

Max watched the sign disappear into the distance through the rear window of her dad’s black Prius, her stomach turning and her shoulders growing tense at the sight.

Still staring off behind the car as they drove down the winding road under a purple-tinted sky, her thoughts lingered on her conversations with Kate, Dana’s question about the Storm, and the sight of those makeshift memorials just outside the dorm building.

Leaving behind. Letting down.

It was getting to be a _very_ familiar feeling.

Soon, other images spun through her mind from five years ago, when her parents insisted on dragging her off to Seattle by the exact same route.

She remembered Chloe falling to her knees in shock when she first learned of William’s accident. Though the day of his burial was mostly a blur, she recalled the sullen, stony-faced girl in the black suit, staring at the casket as Max pulled away. In her mind, she bitterly replayed that tape recording she’d left, wincing at every well-intended but empty assurance she’d made.

“ _...Chloe, listen, even if I never-- even if we’re moving for good… We’re always together, okay? Even when we’re apart. We’re still Max and Chloe. I will always, always love you. Goodbye.”_

She crossed her arms over her stomach, breathing unevenly as she watched the town shrink into the horizon. Leaving felt just as wrong as it had in 2008, and she desperately wanted to tell her dad to turn the car around. Yet, still unnerved by his defense of Jeffershit during the I.E.P. meeting, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him just yet.

Feeling too anxious, too conflicted to do what her heart insisted was right – that was getting to be a painfully familiar experience, too.

Long after they merged onto I-5, leaving all signs of Arcadia Bay behind, she still could not shake off the regrets and memories.

_Chloe…_

_No matter how many promises I made, I just keep leaving you…_

_What if I could’ve stayed just a couple weeks longer?_

_What if I had just picked up the damned phone?_

_What if we’d never moved at all?_

_What if-_

“Maxine,” Vanessa said in a practiced, placating tone, interrupting her daughter’s disconsolate brooding and causing her to face forward, “Your father and I wanted to say ‘thank you’ for agreeing to come home. We were able to get you in with Dr. Hank on Friday, but other than that, well- just relax, and let us know what you need, OK?”

As her mother paused, waiting for her response, Max grumpily snapped out of her rumination. _‘_ _Relax’?_ _She's not even trying to understand… as usual…_ _and_ still _calling me ‘Maxine.’_ She felt an odd tingling though her protective layer of numbness, suddenly aware of the cool air blowing through the car’s A/C and her mother’s eyes peering at her through the rearview.

Just as their eyes met, dark clouds rolled across the indigo sky, enveloping the car, highway, and surrounding landscape in shadow.

Her mother must be hiding _something_ behind her conciliatory words.

_Nice try, but I know that voice. Scolding in 5… 4… 3… 2…_

“…but we do need to talk about your camera,” Vanessa said right on cue, eliciting an unseen eyeroll from her daughter.

In a softer, disarmingly genuine voice, she continued, “Sweetheart, what happened?”

Her earnest tone caught Max off-guard, and she felt herself cautiously lowering her defenses as the sun hesitantly broke through the clouds outside. Slowing down her breaths, she thought back over the past two days. _This week has been… just unreal. But hiding everything, getting lost in my head, letting the pressure just build up… that’s not helping._ _W_ _hen I talked to Kate, Luke, Stella, and Dana,_ _it seemed to_ _hel_ _p, I think?_ _Dad, too…_

Gazing distantly out the window, arms still wrapped around her abdomen, Max began trying to explain, “I was there. When he _shot_ Chloe, I…I just _lost it…_ ”

As the memory rushed into her mind, a torrent of words swiftly flooded out, “I don’t even remember breaking the camera. I just knew that Chloe was gone and I could’ve done something and I love her so much and after the last time we left I never even called and when I held her she was already… already g-gone…”

She struggled to say the last word as a lump formed in her throat and her lip began to quiver.

She wanted to cry… _needed_ to cry… but just like her Rewind, the power to shed a tear remained beyond her reach.

Was this how it would always be?

Why couldn’t she feel the full depth of her own guilt and grief?

What would it take to break through the stifling barrier around her heart?

“Honey, I’m so sorry you had to see that,” her mother replied, her inflection hinting that she had more to say as a grave but thoughtful expression crossed her face.

Ryan blinked and wiped at his watery eyes as they wordlessly drove down the highway, mother and daughter each staring out their respective windows. Outside, the sun had dipped behind the treeline, half obscured by clouds and casting long, ominous shadows over the road.

 _Maybe I should’ve_ _just_ _kept my mouth shut…_

The air inside the vehicle suddenly felt thick, and the possibility of her parents watching her through the mirror made her squirm in her seat.

She knew that seeking comfort from her mother was risky at best. She wouldn’t understand, she’d judge, she’d pry, she’d make it about _herself_ somehow _…_ what in the world made Max think that opening up to her would be a good idea?

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” Vanessa finally said, “But I’m your mother. I care about you, and if you ever want to talk… With my job, sometimes we get some very… very difficult calls.”

Staring at the passing scenery, her voice grew detached and clinical as she continued, “Sometimes we arrive and it’s too late, you can’t save this one, that one’s D.O.A. I’ve seen the light go out of a patient’s eyes while I was still treating… What I mean is, you can talk to us, hon. We understand what you’re going through.”

 _No you don’t- ugh!!! This is my_ life… _She wasn’t a random ‘patient,’ she’s_ everything _to me!_

“Hmph,” Max grumbled resentfully, crossing her arms as the tension in the car quickly rose, “I know you _care_ , and it… it means a lot that you came to get me and you wanted to ‘share,’” she paused, sucking air in through her teeth, “But, _no_ , you _don’t_ understand. P-Please… don’t say that.”

“Your mother’s just trying to say we’re still in your corner, kiddo,” her dad said, a note of concern in his tone as he weakly smiled at her through the mirror.

“If you’re ‘in my corner,’” Max quickly retorted, glaring out the window with an increasingly bitter edge to her voice, “then why did you act all buddy-buddy with the Principal? Why did you say Jeffershi- that Mark Jefferson should be ‘presumed innocent’? And _why,”_ she hesitated, her voice shaking, “why did you make me leave Chloe the day of _William’s fucking funeral_?”

“Sweetie, we-”

 **“DAD!”** she shouted, startling both parents as the intense, anguished cry filled the space between them. Immediately regretting the outburst, Max softened her voice as she continued, “Can we just t-talk tomorrow? _Please_ … I just want to be left alone…”

Not waiting for a response, Max put her earbuds in and hit [Play]. She’d only rarely listened to this track, but with the volume turned up, its slow crescendo and shouty catharsis felt ideal for drowning out any parental responses. Closing her eyes, she disappeared into the music as evening twilight shrouded her face in backseat darkness.

* * *

“ _If the children don’t grow up,_  
_our bodies get bigger but our hearts just get torn up._  
_We’re a million little gods causin’ rain storms,_  
_turnin’ every good thing to rust._  
  
_I guess we’ll just have to adjust…”_  
  
Arcade Fire – [Wake Up](https://youtu.be/gKNIMRGUQBA)

* * *

Max’s first full day back at her parent’s two-story home brought her little relief, and only deepened her doubts about coming back here.

Arriving in Seattle well after dark the previous evening, Max had stomped directly up to her old room and slammed the door. She could not even remember the last time she’d lashed out at her parents like that, but who could blame her? Her exhaustion prevented her from dwelling on it, and after tapping out brief texts to Dana and Kate, she had collapsed onto her bed.

After sleeping through the night and morning, she woke up on Thursday afternoon with a start. Her heart was pounding, her sheets were drenched in cold sweat, and she had curled into a ball, trembling under the covers.

The nightmare had taken her back to the Blackwell girls’ bathroom, frozen in place until after that fateful gunshot. It ended in the moment she blacked out, and Other Max’s words and chilling visage were the last thing she remembered before waking up.

“ _You will never see our precious punk again, Max. How could you let her die?”_

This time, however, Dana and Kate were not there to comfort her.

Dad wasn’t home from work, and Vanessa just started her shift.

Max was alone.

Reaching over to her nightstand out of habit, she held up her phone and read the display.

 **[4:22 P.M., Thursday, October 10, 2013]  
** [Voicemail box full]  
[4 unread text messages]  
[3 unread emails]

At first, her hands were shaking so severely that she could only read a couple words at a time on the cracked screen. She noticed that one unread text was from Stella, and remembering what her classmate taught her, she sat up and counted out several long, slow breaths.

_In, two, three, four… Out, two, three, four, five, six…_

As her hand tremors subsided and the nightmare loosened its grip on her, she continued with the deep breathing exercise while looking around her room. Her nightstand, wall-mounted mirror, and chest of drawers all remained in their usual spots. Scattered Polaroids, posters, and vinyl records still hung in place, with gaps where she’d brought some to her dorm. A triangular Blackwell Academy pennant was displayed just above the door, taped up there with Pop’s help on the day she received her acceptance text from the scholarship office.

Everything was where Max had left it when she’d packed for school just over five weeks ago, but being here still felt _off_ to her. She used to take refuge in this room, safely cocooned among her photos, music, and mementos. Yet throughout her visit, those old, comfortable, familiar feelings had been replaced with a disappointing sense of unease.

Looking at her own half-awake reflection in the mirror, she was at least relieved _not_ to see Other Max there this time. Still, she felt like an impostor standing-in for the shy Polaroid enthusiast who once lived here, who always dreamed of reconnecting with her best friend and making a fresh start.

 _Seattle, this house, this room…_ _can this place ever really feel_ _like “home”_ _now?_

Jumping up from the bed when she felt a _buzz_ from the phone in her hands, she tapped the screen to open a series of texts.

[From: Kate]  
[To: Max]

[Sorry to hear, Max. Hope today will be much better!]  
[I’m OK. Had an awful nightmare, but it’s over now.]  
[Worried about talking to the police and the D.A.]  
[But Alice is cheering me up, and Alyssa came by.]  
[I practiced what Stella taught us. It helped a lot!]  
[We’re all meeting up Monday btw! xoxoxo]

“Oh, Kate…” Despite those last few upbeat messages, Max knew her friend was still struggling to cope with what Jeffershit and Nathan had done, the now-removed viral video, and her family’s reactions. She felt a pang of guilt for the text she’d fired off before bed last night, complaining about the argument with her parents and once again burdening her friend with her problems.

_Kate’s still hurting. She deserves my support, not more drama…_

A flash of memory from another timeline passed through her mind once again – powerless in the pouring rain, birds frozen in place mid-flight – as it often did when she thought of Kate. _I shouldn’t have left Arcadia Bay… I shouldn’t have let my parents make me leave her…_ Shuddering, she tried to keep her response encouraging.

[From: Max]  
[To: Kate]

[Aww Alice! She’s so sweet. Tell her hi for me? / (•ㅅ•)＼]  
[I’m so sorry to hear you had nightmares too.]  
[We are both in the same boat. Nightmare boat?]  
[But yes Stella’s breathing thing is helpful! Just tried it out]  
[I know it’s hard but please remember we’re here for you!]  
[p.s. if helpful, I can share about giving witness statement]

Now, she needed something to distract her from worrying about Kate.

In the eerie silence of her room, she lingered next to her chest of drawers, admiring the small collection of music boxes displayed on top of it. Among them, she found several of Pop’s birthday and Christmas presents and one special gift that Chloe had saved all summer to buy her in the seventh grade.

_You went all out with the mushiness that day, and it was cute as hell…_

While technically a music box with its keyhole visible on the back side, from the front it actually looked like an ordinary snow globe with a pirate ship inside. She wasn’t sure where she’d left its key, but Max had always loved the perfectly absurd gift, as well as the thought and many weeks of chores behind it. Though she longed to find the key again, even without it she remembered the jaunty tune it played: an old, Irish-sounding [sea shanty reinterpreted for](https://youtu.be/kV_3ohvNgK8?t=67)[ a pirate-themed video game](https://youtu.be/kV_3ohvNgK8?t=67) they used to play together.

Now, even looking at that tiny Jolly Roger flag flying above the crow's nest reminded her of long afternoons spent with Chloe, pretending to be little pirates running and jumping through Arcadia Bay with an eyepatch, a tricorn hat, and a pair of toy rapiers.

After a few moments of wistful reminiscing, her mind began to echo with the earliest hints of the same jarring, discordant noise she’d heard earlier that week. _No, please no, the last thing I want is_ _another… episode, incident, whateverthehell keeps happening… I_ can’t _lose myself again!_

She cautiously stepped back and turned away from the chest of drawers, taking deep breaths and shakily walking out into the hallway.

* * *

“ _He saw now that you can’t go home again – not ever. There was no road back.”_

– Thomas Wolfe, You Can’t Go Home Again

* * *

With the sky already growing dark outside, Max dragged herself through the motions of descending the stairs, making coffee, picking at a bowl of granola and yogurt, and taking a shower. By then, at least, she’d successfully found solace from the most recent nightmare and the static in her head.

Still alone in the empty house, she lounged on the sofa, surveying the rest of the lower floor from where she sat. Immediately, she noticed the complete lack of seasonal decorations: no jack-o’-lanterns, fake cobwebs, plastic spiders, ceramic skulls, or holographic apparitions.

_I was always so excited to put up Halloween stuff, outdo myself every year… never realized they just wouldn’t bother once I left…_

Trying to ignore a fleeting pang of loneliness, she resumed looking around.

Behind her, the staircase led up to the second floor. Just past the foot of the stairs, a sliding-glass door led into the fenced-in backyard. A flat screen TV and bookcase stood across from her – mostly true crime novels, guitar lesson books, sports biographies, and tomes on the history of northern Ireland.

In the disturbing quiet that filled the space, Max took note of the small stereo on the bookcase’s middle shelf, as well as the guitar case resting against the wall near the sofa.

 _I should just get up and put some music on…_ _ugh, I slept all day. Why do I still feel too worn down to just walk across the room?_

 _Maybe I’ll_ _keep_ _looki_ _ng_ _around a_ _few more minutes_ _…_

Next to the bookcase, Max saw the entry hallway which led to the front door, and also held the entrance to her dad’s tiny, locked den. A dark oak liquor cabinet separated the living room and kitchen within the otherwise open floor, with an old pirate-era photograph of Max, Chloe, and Bongo mounted just above it.

_She looked so much happier back then…_

Quickly turning away from the photo, Max took in the last few details of the space. Hard to believe she’d lived here so recently when, on the ground floor, there was little evidence she ever had – save for the lesson books, the “pirate BFFs” photo, and a family portrait hanging in the stairwell.

Her parents had pressured her to come back here to rest, to have a couple days of comfort and peace. Yet, as regret, concern for Kate, and worries about internal and external Storms still stirred within her, the sense of being out-of-place in their house only left her feeling restless.

Eager to focus her thoughts outside the silent, desolate residence, Max pulled out her phone.

 _I guess Kristen and Fernando don’t even know I’m_ _in town_ _… but what would I even say to them? We haven’t talked since August…_

_Moving away and cutting off your friends – are you seeing a pattern here, Caulfield?_

Shaking her head ruefully, she turned back to the slightly less fraught domain of her texts inbox, checking the first series of unread messages.

[From: Evan]  
[To: Max]

[Hey, Max. Thanks again for standing up to Vortex jerks.]  
[Wanted to let you know, Kate is on board with petition.]  
[You can, of course, confirm with her if you’d like to.]  
[Juliet’s writing about the petition in the school paper Fri.]  
[The tide’s turning: We are already up to 100 signatures!]

Max tilted her head to the side and placed a hand on her chin, considering his message. The “of course” made her roll her eyes – did Evan even know how _not_ to sound patronizing?

 _But at least he’s not upset with me over the… incident… on Tuesday, and Luke said he isn’t either…_ _What_ _if this petition actually work_ _s_ _? I’d be so relieved to see Jeffershit’s “art”_ _and those Prescott plaques_ _removed_ _for good_ _!_

With a quick [Thanks for letting me know.], Max put her phone away and reached for her guitar case, which her dad had brought in last night.

 _Still_ _can’t believe I blew up at him like that…_

Shaking her head, she removed the guitar and carefully tuned it, focusing only on fingers, tuning pegs, strings, and sound. She knew the unique tuning would take extra effort for the song she wanted to practice, but the task helped her put everything else out of mind.

Now, it was just her and her guitar.

With all the time travel That Week, she couldn’t _really_ be sure when she’d last played – probably a few days ago, but it felt like much longer.

Still, there was something comforting about the familiar motions and sounds as she began to [play the intricate melody and steady baseline](https://youtu.be/t6bUaZHMZbw), her fingers dancing across the fretboard and her palm keeping rhythm. The first few attempts were a bit rough, but after that, her entire summer’s worth of afternoons spent practicing kicked in.

For a while, she could almost relax. All tornadoes, rooftop pleas, gunshots and nightmares dropped away, and she could pretend to just be that shy, dedicated hipster girl picking and strumming away on her acoustic-of-course guitar.

Carefree.

Naive.

_Innocent._

_UGH…_

Suddenly, she felt acutely aware of the date – Thursday, October 10th. The day before the Storm. Back during That Week, it had also been the day of the Dark Room, the junkyard… and the day she’d felt that needle prick, the day Jeffershit captured her…

 _His_ voice slithered through her memory and made her skin crawl.

 _No, nononono…_ _can’t I have just one moment to forget all this shit_ _?_

Abruptly returning the instrument to its case, she traversed the room to hit [Play] on the stereo. Quickly deciding that her dad’s Irish folk music was _not_ going to help her shake off the gross, unsteady feeling that had washed over her, she hit [Stop] and made for the TV stand, searching through the family’s DVD collection for something else to fill the maddening silence.

The first DVD she’d pulled from her parents’ media library was _Blade Runner,_ but she hit [Eject] before the opening credits finished, immediately regretting her mistake in choosing a film that reminded her of movie nights and rainy days at the Price household.

Reopening the drawer, she dusted off and popped in _Final Fantasy: Spirits Within_ , pleased to find that the 12-year-old disc still played smoothly.

_That’s more like it…_

When her dad walked in, he found her transfixed by the film. She didn’t bother to pause it, instead merely lowering the volume for their strained, routine “hey, pumpkin” and “welcome back.”

Focusing on the screen gave her a good excuse not to look him in the eyes.

Max had also seen this movie so many times that she could recite every line of dialogue from memory and list each character death (chronologically or alphabetically). Splitting attention between its cutting edge 2001 CG visuals and her dad’s voice wasn’t that challenging.

“Back to fighting the invasion of the phantoms, I see?” he asked as he removed his shoes and stepped into the living room, one arm cradling a large paper bag.

“Mmhmm. Ghosts,” Max flatly replied, “but Aki doesn’t know that part yet.”

“How many spirits?”

“They’re about to find the seventh,” she replied, barely hiding her reluctance as she added, “There’s still a while left to go, if you want to watch.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his tone cautious and a bit deflated. Max knew he didn’t understand why she liked the film, and only tolerated it to spend time with her.

As her dad walked to the kitchen and placed the bag down on the kitchen island, removing three plastic containers and two cans of soda, he added, “Got some lobster rolls here for you. Want me to bring them over?”

“Thanks, I’ll get them,” Max said, her mouth watering at the gustatory bribe, even despite her chilly demeanor and previous lack of appetite.

There was still tension between them, but she couldn’t deny: her dad knew her well. Max could _never_ turn down an opportunity to nosh on her all-time favorite food!

_Well played, Pop. Well played._

For a while, they sat on opposite ends of the couch, finishing their meals and watching Cid and Aki deliver plenty of exposition about the eighth spirit. When Ryan rose to clean out and recycle their containers, Max offered a thin but genuine smile, nodding her head appreciatively.

Though she still couldn’t taste much and hadn’t noticed her rumbling stomach, jolting headache, or that foggy faintness before eating, the satisfying sense of fullness afterwards lifted her mood.

When her dad returned with two mugs of hot cocoa and a small bowl of popcorn, she paused the film and cleared her throat, mentally building herself up to speak.

“I’m… Pop, I’m sorry for t-talking to you that way. For snapping at you.”

“Apology accepted, honey. I love you, don’t ever forget that,” he replied, sipping his cocoa and meeting her eyes. “I am not mad at you. But this has been a big shock for me and your mother! One moment you’re shouting at us, the next you seem so far away. It’s… we’re just concerned.”

_That makes three of us…_

“I love you, too. I… It’s just…,” her voice trailed off. Drinking some of the cocoa and grasping for words even remotely adequate to express her thoughts, she began again, “She’s gone, and nothing feels the same at all, and I guess it’s all a shock for me too? I don’t want to pretend everything’s OK. It _did_ hurt, when we moved, what you said at the meeting… But I’m not ready to talk about any of it…”

“Then I won’t push you. I know you’re hurting, sweetheart,” he replied with deep sadness in his eyes, sighing and looking down into his mug. After a few moments, he squared his shoulders, wiped cocoa from his mustache with his sleeve, and continued in an overly casual tone, “For what it’s worth, I get that yesterday was the wrong time to share my opinions with your Principal – I was out-of-bounds. For now we just want you to try and take it easy, OK? We’ll always have time to figure out the rest.”

_That’s… not exactly an apology. So Dad isn’t sorry for what he said about “false accusations” tarnishing the reputations of “good men”? He just regrets saying it at the “wrong time”?_

_I never expected this from you, Pop…_

He didn’t _really_ understand, and that fact left Max sinking deeper into her corner of the couch as she unpaused the movie.

Swallowing her disappointment, she shifted the discussion back to their usual topics of debate over this film: What, if anything, made this a Final Fantasy film? What does Gray mean by “death isn’t the end?” Was he the “right” character to make a heroic sacrifice?

How do any of the surviving characters carry on, after the losses they’ve endured?

Max knew her dad found it amusing that she tried to engage him in serious discussions of _Spirits Within_ , but he kept the teasing to a minimum.

Mostly, she was just grateful that they were on better terms than they’d been on the ride to Seattle.

After the credits rolled, he reminded her about the next day’s psychiatrist appointment, and both Caulfields retired to their respective rooms.

With a sense of resignation about impending nightmares, Max pulled open her sleepwear drawer. Donning an old pair of pajama pants and an oversized Thunderbirds jersey, she climbed into bed, eventually succumbing to a fitful, restless slumber.

* * *

“ _I just want to sleep tonight_  
_Come on nightmare_  
_Come on nightmare  
__Come and get me…”_

Worker Bees, Greg Atkinson, Darren Atkinson – [ Come On Nightmare ](https://youtu.be/dWpl35Ji6Ko)

* * *

_The first_ _few_ _times her phone_ buzzed _, Max let it go._

 _Probably just texts. She’d_ _make sure to_ _check_ _later_ _._

 _She was supposed to_ _rest_ _, carted back to Seattle for the expressed purpose of giving mind and body a break after the unrelenting deluge of devastating events._

_She just wanted to sleep in, to savor another hour or two of lazy snoozing._

_But as the_ buzzing _continued,_ _increasing frequency_ _and ultimately sending her phone diving off the nightstand, Max groaned an_ _d_ _pick_ _ed_ _it up off the floor._

_Sitting on the edge of her bed, she viewed the display._

_[_ _**11:22A.M. Friday, October 11, 2011** _ _]_  
_[Voicemail box full]_  
_[13 unread text messages]_  
_[6 new calls]  
_ _[3 unread emails]_

 _She was frustrated to notice Warren’s name among the senders in her text inbox, worried that he would make things more awkward at a time she_ really _wanted him to give her space._ _Sighing_ _, she tapped to open his messages, timestamped just two hours earlier._

 _[From: Warren]  
_ _[To: Max]_

 _[...your phone up until you tell me to leave you alone.]_  
_[It’s not about me. There is heavy eco-shit going on.]_  
_[The air feels electric and the clouds are bubbling…]_  
_[Full on tornado! Cars are flying. Barely made it to the Two Whales.]  
_ _[Joyce is here. This storm is huge. Please tell everyone: take cover.]_

_Seeing these texts the first time, back when she had powers, was hard enough._

_The second time around, they threw her into a whirlwind of panic and guilt. She’d wanted to ignore his texts, to keep avoiding his discomfiting white knight act instead of setting boundaries… and now, for all she knew, he was already lost to the diner explosion!_

_This isn’t what she wanted! She never asked for any of this!_

_Her heart was racing, beating full-force inside her chest as her breaths grew rapid and shallow._

“ _No, no, nonono… this isn’t happening… this_ can’t _be happening!”_

 _She continued speaking_ _to no-one_ _, her voice weak, tremulous, almost pleading, “I made the choice! I made that horrible sacrifice…_ _I love her, she’s_ _the only one who mattered to me… I let her d-die and_ _maybe I’ll never forgive myself_ _… but it_ can’t _be for nothing! D-don’t tell me it was all for n-nothing??”_

_Her hands shook furiously, fumbling and nearly dropping the phone as she re-read Warren’s words._

“ _The Storm_ can’t _come. It can’t!_ _This_ _has to be some kind of mistake!”_

_Her eyes wide and jaw clenched, she hurriedly opened another set of texts._

_[From: Dana]  
_ _[To: Max]_

 _[Max I think that big_ _S_ _torm is on its way]_  
_[I’m so sorry. I know you love her, and…]_  
_[I think it’s already here. It’s bad, Max…]_  
_[Everyone who’s still alive is pure violet]_  
_[Running. Max, warn everyone you can!]  
_ _[I just want to tell y]_

 _Attempting to call Dana, then Kate, Stella, Luke, and Warren, she was met only with an automated message that “cellular service is currently unavailable in the service area.” Her heart was in her throat as her fingers_ _raced_ _across the screen in a panic, copying and pasting the same two messages to nearly everyone in her contacts list:_

 _[TORNADO WARNING FOR ARCADIA BAY RIGHT NOW.]  
_ _[GET TO SAFETY AT THE LIGHTHOUSE IF YOU CAN.]_

 _Of course,_ _from_ _her_ _very_ _first vision_ _of the lighthouse tower’s destruction_ _, she wasn’t certain_ _that area was safe. At the end of That Week_ _, she’d photojumped away while the Storm was still raging. But in her desperation to help, to_ do something _, she didn’t know what else to_ _tell them all_ _._

 _Nearly tripping down the stairs as she sprinted to the living room,_ _Max_ _found her stunned parents already_ _glued to_ _a weather report. Sitting close to her dad, they all looked on in horror at the images on the_ _TV_ _._

“ _They say no one saw it coming… barely anyone got out in time…,”_ _Vanessa_ _said in a flat, detached voice, her husband and daughter gasping at the footage, “…strongest storm to hit the Bay in recorded history, even…”_

 _The_ _structures closest to the shore had already been obliterated, with vehicles, roofs, trees, power lines, and mobile homes thrown violently through the air. The bodies of humans, deer, whales, and_ _birds_ _lay broken and lifeless in the streets. As it_ _tore into_ _the town, the_ _massive_ _funnel cloud seemed to level everything it came in contact with._

 _For Max,_ _the_ _images from the graveyard and her school_ _were especially disturbing._ _Despite being far enough inland to avoid_ _total destruction, the Arcadia Bay Cemetery's sign_ _still went_ _flying across the screen at one point, quickly followed by a cut to Blackwell Academy. There, Max saw items from the two memorials – including_ _her_ _photograph of Captain Bluebeard at 14 –_ _launched_ _high into the air by a strong gust._

 _When her phone suddenly_ buzzed _, Max jumped in her seat, startling her dad in turn._

 _As she pulled the small device back out of her pocket, a spark of hope jolted through her:_ someone _must still be alive! It was… well, it was a weird_ _reaction_ _, sure. Considering. But her mind flashed through different places they might have found safety,_ _desperate to believe there were legitimate bunker_ _s_ _, or that the hospital was still standin_ _g somehow_ _._

 _Tapping the screen, she opened_ _the_ _barrage_ _of new messages, all with the same text:_

 _[TORNADO WARNING FOR ARCADIA BAY RIGHT NOW.]  
_ _[--DELIVERY FAILURE--]_

 _[GET TO SAFETY AT THE LIGHTHOUSE IF YOU CAN.]  
_ _[--DELIVERY FAILURE--]_

“ _I’m sorry,_ _pumpkin_ _,” her dad said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I know you didn’t_ want _her to die in vain.”_

“ _P-P-Pop…? What… why would you say that?”_

“ _Because he’s too polite to tell you directly, dear,”_ _Vanessa scoffed,_ _“Your choice never mattered. You never ‘saved’ anyone, except yourself. And your sacrifice –_ her _sacrifice? It meant nothing.”_

“ _Nothing…” Max said, burying her face in her hands as her parents and the onscreen_ _meteorologist_ _all repeated the word in a sinister tone._

“ _Nothing, nothing, nothing…”_

 

* * *

Gasping for breath and shivering under the sheets, Max flailed for her phone, yelping in surprise as she smacked her hand against the nightstand. The distant, muted pain gave her only a moment’s pause before she carefully reached for the device, easily spotting it as sunlight peaked in through her window.

Sitting up and swiping to unlock it, she frantically pulled up her contacts list, tapping Dana’s name and the [Call] icon.

It rang!

No automated message!

Well… fine, it went to voicemail, but that was still a good sign right?

Her voice quavering, Max whispered, “Um, hi...hi D-Dana. It’s Max. C-call me back OK?”

_Pleasepickup pleasepickup pleasepickup pleasepleasepleasepickup…_

Max held her breath through the next three attempts to call, hearing only whipping wind and claps of thunder in the space between each dial tone, ring, and voicemail prompt. Images of overturned cars, collapsed buildings, and an exploding diner filled her mind as she hit [Call] yet again.

_This can’t be happening! Not again!_

_I should have told her to get out… I should have warned them all…_

Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth, and her eyes stung from staring wide-eyed into the screen’s electronic glow for so long without blinking. The shivers had grown into violent, full-body shaking, as she desperately pressed the phone against her ear for one last attempt to reach Dana.

The words “sole survivor” passed through her mind, twisting her insides with self-disgust. She forcefully pushed the thought away, fighting to hold onto any possibility that her friends and the rest of the town might still be alive.

_Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease pick up, you have to pick up!_

_Please…_

Click.

“…Max? What’s wrong?”

 **“DANA!!!”** Max squealed into the phone, exhaling several minutes’ worth of pent-up breath before shouting, “It is SO GOOD to hear your voice!”

“Damn, girl – my ears! I’m glad to hear from you, too, but… what’s going on? I can’t see your aura from here, so-”

Max’s words tumbled out haphazardly, and in her breathless stream of questions, she barely even registered what Dana had said.

“Are you in Arcadia Bay? How did you escape the Storm? Have you seen Kate today? And Stella? WarrenLukeEvan? Just, everyone? Is everyone OK?”

“Oh, Max… Listen. There’s no Storm, you don’t have to worry. We’re all fine. Just got out of a mandatory school assembly, but trust me, you didn’t miss anything!”

“No Storm? There was no Storm?”

As Dana began to reply, Max pulled the phone down away from her face and looked down at the display, still halfway listening to her friend.

[ **2:11P.M. Friday, October 11, 2011** ]  
[Voicemail box full]  
[2 unread text messages]  
[3 unread emails]

_No Storm… there’s no Storm. There’s no Storm. Dana’s OK, the town’s OK. There’s no Storm._

“…it sounds like it’s pretty rough for you up there, but I’m glad you’re coming back in the morning. A bunch of us are gathering up by the lighthouse tomorrow night for, like, a memorial thing? It’s super informal, but Max, I think it might be a good idea-”

“Yeah,” Max said, trying to pace her breathing and calm her tense, shaky body. “Sure, um, just remind me? I… I’m sorry for all this… I think it was just another nightmare?”

“You don’t have to apologize, Max. You’ve been through so much. It happens-”

A sudden knock made Max gasp, her head snapping to look to the door as both Ryan Caulfield’s voice and Dana’s called out at once.

“-Max? What was that? Are you still there?”  
“Sweetheart, are you OK in there? I heard shouting. “

Placing her hand over the phone’s mic, Max called out, “Fine, Pop… it’s nothing!”

“I’ll take your word, kiddo. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here. Also, don’t forget, you have your appointment with Dr. Hank today. Lunch is my treat, but we need to leave soon.”

“Be out in a minute!”

Max waited to hear his footsteps disappear down the stairs and into the living room before removing her hand and replying to Dana.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Max said. Remembering her friend’s insistence against apologies just moments earlier, she added, “I mean, um, not sorry? Actually I gotta go. But I just want to say, thank you _so much_ for picking up. You have _no_ idea…”

“We’re here for you, Max. I’m glad you called. Let me know if you need anything?”

“Will you check in later? And, um, let me know if… if anything changes with the, um, the weather?”

“I will, Max. Take care.”

“You, too.”

Click.

* * *

While talking to Dana had helped Max shake off her latest nightmare, she didn’t feel fully awake until she’d had her “morning” coffee.

Pushing the stirrer intently around the small, half-full recyclable cup after her first few sips, Max impatiently willed it to cool down. Seeing steam curl from the cup up towards the ceiling in evanescent wisps brought back unwelcome memories of sitting in the Two Whales just two days ago, eagerly waiting for someone who would never show up again.

Refusing to break down in public, she turned away from the cup, searching for a distraction.

The small, locally owned café had been nearly empty when father and daughter walked in, wisely arriving during the early afternoon lull. Located next to an independent bookstore and three blocks away from her old high school, Max especially appreciated how [the in-store speaker system ](https://youtu.be/NECO4s-kMYo)[exclusively played Seattle-based artists and bands](https://youtu.be/NECO4s-kMYo). It had been her routine spot for completing homework and grabbing a cup of delicious, fair-trade coffee throughout her Seattle years.

Much like her room, it felt surreal to return here. But they served quality coffee, her handmade bagel sandwich was nice and warm, and the music put her at ease as she finished her lunch.

By the time they set off for the psychiatrist’s office, she felt lucid enough to spill her guts to the shrink.

Her 20-minute visit to Dr. Hank’s office felt even more blunt, cold, and impersonal than her previous appointments over the last few years. Despite her discomfort with his direct and personal questions, he successfully prompted her to share the basics about her jumpiness, numbness, troubling memories, sleep issues, and even the times she’d felt outside her body or out-of-control.

When it was done, she walked out with a provisional PTSD diagnosis and two new scripts: Lorazepam as-needed for insomnia and flashbacks; Trazedone daily for insomnia. She’d gone back and forth with him that she had _nightmares_ without actually losing any sleep, while he insisted this still counted as insomnia. Eventually she shrugged it off, eager to leave his office.

_If he says this stuff will help… at least it’s a low dose._

Her dad then dropped her off at home, leaving to put in a few hours at work, and promising to pick up her prescriptions on his way back.

* * *

Max stood in her parents’ living room, the noiseless space once again filling her with a fidgety, restless trepidation as lingering worries from her appointment and that morning’s terrible nightmare caught up with her.

Curling up on the couch, she patted her hands against her thighs, creating an anxious rhythm as she eyed the guitar case and instinctively tapped her feet. The swelling in her hands had gone down, yet they distantly ached as her fretful, impromptu percussion matched her apprehensive mood.

Dr. Hank had told her she needed medication, now. In his professional opinion.

She was already feeling pretty broken, so… nothing new there.

In fact, she didn’t mind the idea of taking meds. Not really. His pitch sounded convincing enough. Something about inducing sleep, enhancing neurotransmitter effects… maybe the jargon didn’t make much sense, but he seemed hopeful it could work.

After smashing her camera, hitting Luke, her Two Whales detour from reality, and her horrible nightmares- she was willing to try almost _anything_.

 _But how could there be a cure for… for losing Chloe? Or a “treatment” for living with_ _my decision? What kind of miracle drug could erase what I’ve seen, what I went through That Week? It’s like… like I’m not even the same person anymore…_

 _What can a couple daily pills really do about_ that _?_

A sudden _buzz_ from her hoodie pocket interrupted the thought, and she stopped tapping her legs to read the new texts.

[From: Stella]  
[To: Max]

[hey Max! thinking of you. how are you doing?]  
[later, watching best space cowboy series ever!]  
[maybe u can join in? skype or something?]  
[nothing much to report, except we miss u]  
[and Kate’s having a long talk w her bunny]  
[anyway! don’t forget 2 breathe. talk soon!]

_Wowsers. She doesn’t even know half of what I’m going through, and I don’t know why she cares but that’s… actually kind of sweet._

_And if Stella’s casually talking about TV night at the dorms,_ _maybe_ _the Storm didn’t come… maybe it won’t come at all…_

Re-reading the last line, she slowed down her breathing, focused on Stella’s words, and began to type out her reply.

[From: Max]  
[To: Stella]

[Thanks Stella! So good to hear from you.]  
[Rough day but the breathing thing helped.]  
[BTW which show? Cowboy Bebop or Firefly?]  
[Everyone says both are weird but pretty good!]  
[And don’t hate – I hear Alice is a good listener]

After exchanging a few more texts and checking the DVD collection, Max settled on a plan to watch the _Firefly_ pilot starting at the exact same time her friends would watch back at Blackwell. That way, she’d be caught-up when they all got together next week for the second episode.

Before Max could set her phone down, another string of texts lit the screen back up.

[From: Dana]  
[To: Max]

[Hey Max! Just checking in.]  
[Hope you’re doing okay after this afternoon?]  
[FYI sky’s clear in the Bay. Forecast says no rain]  
[There’s something I need to ask. Kinda sensitive]  
[Is there a memorial fund? Or a way to help Joyce?]

_I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask… I can’t even imagine how awful this must be for her._

She was relieved about the forecast, but the question about Joyce lingered as she quickly replied that she would try to find out.

As Max put the phone away, Vanessa entered the room and offered her a cup of coffee. Grateful for the unexpected caffeine delivery and eager to clear her mind, Max began drinking in short, fervent sips.

In a lightly teasing tone, her mother said, “Maxine, have you ever heard of caffeine addiction?”

“I’ll let that question percolate,” Max replied with a smirk, “But if it gets me through the daily grind…”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Vanessa said with an unusually warm laugh.

Dressed in a plain house dress with her hair down, her mother had slept through most of the afternoon after working an overnight shift. As Max nursed her own mug, her mother sat next to her and sipped from a teacup, eventually placing it back on its saucer to address her daughter.

“Sweetie, can we talk?” Vanessa asked with a kind smile, a hint of sadness in her eyes as Max cautiously nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve had to work so much while you’re here. But, about what you said in the car,” she took a deep breath, her voice calm and steady, “Maybe I don’t all-the-way understand the terrible things you’ve been through. It’s hard to see you struggling. But – from _my_ experience – I also know that lashing out, or pushing people away, is a completely understandable first reaction.”

“The problem comes if you never… if you never take the time to look inside. Do you know what I mean? At some point, if you don’t actually face your feelings, you can’t really heal.”

She waited patiently as Max took in her mother’s words.

They were having A Moment, and that was… different. _She’s trying, at least. I guess?_ But her walls were still up. Sometimes, Vanessa showed her compassion or offered to listen just because she cared. On too many other occasions, though, there was a catch. Kindness offered to “make up for” a particularly cruel comment, or to persuade her daughter to ignore her own boundaries “just this once.”

It was immensely difficult for Max to tell when sweet words might come with strings attached.

As she replied, she measured her words and kept her tone neutral, hiding any hint of suspicion.

“I don’t know what to say. Guess I’m not even sure what it means to ‘face my feelings,’ you know?” Hesitantly sipping her coffee, she continued, “But I’ll think about what you told me. And… and I’m sorry for what I said before. I apologized to Pop, too.”

“He told me,” her mother replied, seemingly satisfied with her response. “We also talked about the camera” _There it is.._ “and we agreed that we’re willing to help you replace it _if_ ,” she paused, meeting her daughter’s eyes, “ _if_ you pay part of the cost. We felt 25% would be reasonable- what do you think?”

 _I keep getting flashbacks to the Dark Room, and even_ looking _at Evan’s camera made my skin crawl… did they ever think to ask what_ I _want?_

“Um, wow. I think… I think maybe I won’t replace it? I could use what’s left of my birthday money on other things,” Max said in the most gentle and straightforward tone she could manage, still hoping to stay on Vanessa’s good side for as long as she could.

Her mother’s jaw dropped, staring in disbelief and placing one hand on her forehead in dismay for several long moments before composing herself. When she continued speaking and lowered her hand, a familiar distance had returned to her voice, “‘Other things?’ Such as…?”

Max shrugged, trying to ignore Vanessa’s blatant disappointment.

_Well, Kate deserves to see her favorite musical much more than I deserve a camera I might never use or even look at again… It would be more than worth it to see her face light up when I tell her._

“I don’t know. Maybe theater tickets?”

“Maxine, this is so unlike you. You always _loved_ taking photos… you spent months begging us to get you that camera! You’re at Blackwell to _study_ photography! I know this is a-” she paused, a note of frustration in her tone, “-a difficult time. But please just… just don’t give up on this? Not yet, OK? Will you think it through?”

“Fine,” Max replied, sinking into her seat on the couch and avoiding Vanessa’s pleading glances, “Forget I said that, I guess. Um… was that what you wanted to talk about?”

“There’s one more thing. Your father and I were talking, and we thought maybe you could use some more time away from Arcadia Bay?”

Max sighed and rolled her eyes as her mother continued, frowning at her deceptively polite tone.

“We just want you to know all your options, sweetie. Have you thought about taking the semester off? We would both love to have you back, you know,” Vanessa said, sipping away at her tea.

_Is she serious? I’m not leaving Kate, and I’m not leaving Chl- I… ugh… I just need to stay._

Her mother continued in a cunningly enthusiastic tone, “In a couple months, you could start back up at your old school, enroll in online classes – whatever you want, dear. After what happened, no one would-”

“No,” Max replied curtly, “Thanks but… no. I’m staying at Blackwell.”

Eighteen years of studying her mother’s expressions and gestures had taught Max a great deal. As her mother’s teacup wavered ever so slightly in her hands, her napkin dabbed anxiously at her lips, and her eyes darted repeatedly to the front door, Max knew this round was over. Vanessa obviously had more to say, but her daughter’s refusal had thrown her off – she would need time to regroup.

“Well, if you change your mind, you just let us know. There’s always a place for you here.”

Max carefully, silently exhaled, grateful to make it through a maternal disagreement unscathed. She couldn’t remember another time she’d told Vanessa “no” about anything significant, and part of her waited apprehensively for the fallout from her defiance.

When none came, the palpable tension in the air started to dissipate.

Finishing her coffee, Max deflected with another question. “Um, by the way, have you talked to Joyce? Some friends at school asked if she needs anything.”

“Oh, I thought we told you? We only talked briefly, but she didn’t sound well. To pay for the funeral, she’s taking out Chloe’s college fund. I can’t even imagine,” she paused, glancing out the window, and shook her head, “But no, she just wants privacy. It’ll be a small service.”

Over the next hour, they washed their respective cups and watched an episode of Vanessa’s favorite true crime show, deftly avoiding serious topics for the rest of the evening. Afterwards, her mother changed into her paramedic’s uniform and apologized for leaving Max alone before finally departing for work.

_I guess it makes sense that she’s worried… but Pop will be home soon. And for now, I’ve got space cowboys to keep me company, so… it’ll be fine._

Pulling the first disc out of the family’s box set for the only season of _Firefly_ , Max popped the disc in and turned on the TV. She was pleased to find that much like the slightly older _Final Fantasy: Spirits Within_ DVD, it played smoothly despite a few scratches.

Under other circumstances, watching the extra-long pilot episode could have been an engaging, enjoyable, fittingly nerdy Friday evening diversion. But viewing it alone in her parent’s house at nightfall dampened her enthusiasm. The scenes before the timeskip struck her as unexpectedly dark, and she had doubts about getting too invested in renegade veteran characters who’d survived on the losing side of a hopeless war.

Her mind wandered back to the troubling feeling she did not belong here, the daunting fact she’d have to face her best friend’s funeral service tomorrow, and the possibility that another nightmare would be waiting when, or if, she slept.

 _They wanted me to come_ _here_ _and rest… but now that this visit’s almost over, did it really change anything? I’m probably just as messed up as when I_ _arrived_ _…_

Giving both hands a quick look-over, she shook her head mirthlessly.

_No more swelling, bruises are almost gone too._

_I’m still a disaster – but at least_ _my hands_ look _a little_ _better. Vanessa must be so proud._

As her mood soured, Max struggled to respond appropriately to her friends’ constant texts as they geeked out about the show. Stella, Alyssa, Kate and Dana all wanted to cheer her up, to make her feel connected, and she did not want to let on that they’d failed. When they called her on her short replies, she passed it off as feeling tired – and while no one really believed that, they didn’t pry.

Despite her irritable frame of mind, Max still appreciated her friends’ attempt to help. Without even talking about the Storm, their texts also reassured her that so far it hadn’t come, smoothing the roughest edges of her growing malaise.

When her dad returned home, he apologized that he’d forgotten the prescriptions, and promised to pick them up in the morning. Though she ate only a few bites of the veggie sub he’d brought her, she wasn’t pressured to eat more. Before they climbed up the stairs to their respective rooms, he reminded her she’d need to be packed and ready to leave early in the morning, then gave her a hug goodnight.

* * *

“ _On and on the strain,_  
_Beauty from afar._  
_Help is on the way,  
__I know you love to fall…”_

Message to Bears – [ I Know You Love to Fall ](https://youtu.be/vjXaddTMecc)

* * *

Two hours later, Max was still lying awake.

At first she diligently counted out her breaths. After several attempts, she felt even more aware of her pounding heart, trembling hands, and spiraling thoughts.

_Guess I don’t belong anywhere, now… but moving back here would hurt even more this time._

_I_ _hate being_ _on edge_ _all_ _the time, but so empty…_ _and_ _everything’s a damn jumpscare now…_ _and those_ _twisted nightmares just make me want to never sleep again…_

_But I guess this is what I deserve._

_I could have saved her…_

Unsure how long she could tolerate being alone with her thoughts, Max tried to push them aside by concentrating on different objects in her room. In the darkness, she listed them by type: six albums on the wall, then Polaroids, then music boxes on her chest of drawers.

Despite her effort, the restless, agitated energy inside her only grew.

 _They say they want to help, they think they understand. Vanessa, Pop,_ _Ms. Hilde,_ _Dr. Hank, my friends… but what if they can’t?_

_What if I’m just broken?_

_It’s too late to “reach out” anyway. Everyone’s asleep…_

_The Storm never came… but now I know for sure it_ was _my fault._ I _caused_ _it_ _… and I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, if it would bring her back…_

Her mind would not shut up, her heart would not slow down, and she was out of ideas.

_What else can I do?_

Almost by instinct, Max swung her legs over the edge of the bed, walked to her door, and crept out into the darkened hallway. Pausing by her parents’ room, she heard only snoring from the other side of the door. Nodding to herself, she descended the stairs and made for the kitchen, growing more confident in her stealth skill as she silently moved through the house.

Padding across the hardwood floor to the refrigerator, Max eased the door open, squinting against the bright light within. Her appetite was still a distant and fading memory, but the array of cold beverages on the bottom shelf looked promising. Pushing aside a carton of orange juice, her eyes rested on a shapely glass bottle of red wine.

“Hmm...” Max paused, slowly reaching her hand towards it as she whispered, “Maybe just a sip…?”

 _No, Vanessa would know_ , she thought with a sigh, pulling back to view the shelf’s remaining contents.

“Yuck! No way,” she said to the six-pack of Guinness, scrunching up her nose in disgust as a voice from That Week pushed its way into her memory:

“ _You are so cute – you haven’t changed a bit!,” Chloe laughed, gripping a green beer bottle in both hands._

“Fucking bottles...fucking _guns…_ ” Max grumbled, pushing the six-pack aside with an impatient urgency and revealing a box of soda cans. Its perforated seal was torn open, with the few remaining cans visible through the tear. She grabbed one, distantly aware of the lingering pain in her knuckles as she shut the refrigerator door.

Setting a tall, heavy glass cup onto the counter, the soda hissed and fizzed as Max poured it into the glass. Once the can was empty, she quietly placed it into the recycling bin and began to move back across the kitchen, holding her drink and eyeing her dad’s oak liquor cabinet.

As her path instinctively swerved towards the tempting stash of booze, the voice from her memory repeated, distorting into a slightly more menacing tone each time.

“ _Haven’t changed a bit!”_

“ _Haven’t changed a bit!”_

“ _H a v e n ’ t  c h a n g e d  a  b i t !”_

Five years in this house _had_ changed her. Five long, lonely, anxious, guilt-ridden years without her best friend, longing to pick up the phone, aching to _finally_ say how she really felt… and chickening out every single time. Five years of Vanessa’s prying and prodding…

“ _Haven’t changed a bit!”_

But That Week changed her most of all. Max remembered _everything_ from the other timelines. She remembered the train barreling towards them both, the roaring wind of the Storm, the Arcadia Bay residents lying dead in the street. She remembered the dying birds, the beached whales, the unnervingly magnificent eclipse, and two moons glowing brightly in the night sky.

She remembered the butterfly photo in her hands, and the choice she’d always regret.

She remembered the gunshot that shook the bathroom stalls, her worthless tears splashing against the tiled floor, back when she could still cry.

Shaking her head, Max paused to take a few sips before placing her drink down on a coaster and opening the cabinet.

“ _Haven’t changed a bit!”_

In a resigned voice, Max joylessly muttered “Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s rum for me,” as she poured the amber liquor into the glass, filling it to the brim before placing the bottle back where she’d found it. Her eyes rested on the photograph of her, Chloe, and Bongo the cat, all dressed as pirates. “To us.” She lifted her chin, raised a toast to the photo, and drew an uncertain breath before finally lifting the glass to her lips.

“Mmgh.” The low grumble rose from her throat and she grimaced, coughed, and shook her head when the intensely boozy aftertaste hit. _At least I don’t_ completely _feel like gagging this time,_ she mused, remembering the first few times Kristen and Fernando double dog dared her to try hard liquor.

“ _Always take the shot...”_

Hearing _his_ voice in her memory sent a chill up her spine as she gulped down more of her rum-and-coke. She knew if her parents found out, she’d be in _serious_ trouble. _Vanessa would be so pissed, she’d make such a huge deal, like_ she’s _one to talk. Unlike her,_ I _hardly ever drink! But Pop, he would be so…_

Max took another sip, shaking her head and trying to push aside thoughts of her parents’ disappointment and their recent arguments. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the kitchen counter, looking around the room and the rest of the first floor.

An unsettling stillness and quiet filled the shadowy space, with only the appliances’ low machine hum warding off the threat of total silence. The clean countertop, uncluttered floor, and unoccupied dish drying rack added to the room’s off-putting emptiness.

_I… I need to get some fresh air._

 

* * *

Once she was comfortably seated on the backyard patio, her hoodie zipped and hood pulled up, a welcome buzz began to wrap Max in its warm, forgiving embrace. Music played softly through her earbuds, and concentric circles of dim light emanated from the single street lamp visible in her line of sight. The stars gleamed, the leaves rustled in the light breeze, and the waxing half moon cast its steady gaze down from its celestial perch.

For years, she’d longed to sit out here with Chloe, talking, laughing, plotting an adventure into the city. _Not that Vanessa would’ve approved of any adventure worth having… “it’s too dangerous,” everything’s too dangerous…_

Shaking her head, her thoughts drifted back to her best friend. On the hardest, loneliest days during those five years – and there were many – sometimes she’d picture Chloe there, sitting next to her, and try to envision what she’d say.

Today, no imaginary Chloe came along to keep her company.

_I just can’t pretend anymore. She’s gone…_

* * *

_“And when the moon, it shines, I will leave two lines  
Just find my love, then find me_

_But don’t bring tomorrow_  
_‘Cause I already know_  
_I’ll lose you_  
_Don’t bring tomorrow_  
_‘Cause I already know_  
_I’ll lose you_  
_I’ll lose you…”_  
  
Daughter – [ Tomorrow](https://youtu.be/vM1xYO1NlrA)

* * *

Her eyes began to water as she heard the first notes of a haunting, melancholy tune, and some of the grief she’d been too numb – or too sober? – to feel began to flow through her.

Frame by frame, pictures of her and Chloe together flashed through her mind, memories arranged like a slideshow with the mournful song as their soundtrack:

First slide, Max and Chloe, beaming in their ice cream sandwich costumes for Max’s favorite holiday.

Next slide, Max and Chloe, setting the charge and blasting a trio of Barbie dolls to smithereens, giggling gleefully in the smoldering aftermath.

Next slide, Max and Chloe, gazing longingly at each other during a midnight swim, splashing to distract from unspoken desire.

Next slide, Max and Chloe, kissing farewell before the vicious, supernatural Storm.

“ _Max Caulfield, don’t you forget about me.”_

By now, Max was drunkenly bawling, shaking with body-wracking sobs, tears pouring from her reddened eyes. She buried her head in her folded arms, trying to muffle the sound so her dad wouldn’t hear. Each lyric and strummed note seemed to strike directly at her heartstrings, somehow comforting her and deepening her sorrow at the same time.

_She’s gone… and that’s on me… the Storm didn’t come today but what about tomorrow and is it wrong that I would take it all back if I could?_

_But I can’t… I gotta live with this, I guess, how does anyone fucking live with this? “We’re always together, even when we’re not?” But we’re not. We’re NOT. And we won’t be, ever again._

_How do I keep going without her?_

She couldn’t be sure how long she sat out there listening to the same song on repeat, her eyes fiercely stinging as she drew desperate, gasping breaths of unrestrained despair. The pain was an endless void, deep and vast and ever-expanding – as the minutes and hours stretched on, she thought it might swallow her whole.

Eventually, Max also felt a strange, guilty sort of relief. She was _finally_ starting to hurt the way she was supposed to, the way she might deserve to. After a week of struggling with numbness, emotions that refused to emerge and violent reactions beyond her control, it made her feel almost human to let the tears and wailing take over for a while.

When she finally stood up, empty glass in hand, it took a great deal of effort to stumble her way back inside and load the cup into the dishwasher.

Climbing the stairs without falling or waking her dad was its own a small miracle, too.

Wiping her eyes with her sleeve as she entered her bedroom, Max flopped onto her bed with a groan and immediately passed out.

 

* * *

By the time Max started to wake up, the sun was rising through a misty morning haze and the Caulfields had been on the road for over four hours. Stretching her arms and gently rubbing her eyes, she felt vaguely aware that she’d had another disturbing dream, but she couldn’t recall the details.

In fact, Max couldn’t clearly remember taking a shower, changing out of her pajamas, or leaving Seattle. _Guess I was really out of it…_ Now, she was dressed in loose-fitting jeans, a black T-shirt with a moth pattern, and a charcoal gray zip-up hoodie, while her black dress hung on the opposite side of the back seat. Over the car’s sound system, Max could just barely hear a news report fading in and out of crackling static:

[“...new development in the Jefferson case … confessed gunman in school shooting took a plea … key witness testimony … In national news … The Invisible War, a documentary on military sexual assault … chain of command … as President Obama denounced-”]

 _That’s… intense. It’s_ way _too early for this…_

The report faded out entirely as the Caulfields drove out of range.

Adjusting the seatbelt strapped across her shoulder and slightly digging into her neck, Max instinctively looked around for her thermos. Finding it tucked into the cupholder molded into the nearest car door, Max gratefully took this morning’s first sips of hot coffee.

 _I guess Pop filled it up for me? Doesn’t make up for everything, but_ _I’ll take it_ _!_ Immediately recognizing the same strong coffee her dad had skillfully brewed every morning for years, she caught his eye and saw his faded, weary smile in the rearview.

“How’d you sleep, pumpkin?” he asked, his tired brown eyes shifting back to the road as he added, “I picked up your prescriptions, but I didn’t want to wake you. Any nightmares?”

“Um, just not as bad, I guess?” she replied with a yawn, “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Of course, kiddo. Today, I think all of us needed some help getting out the starting gate,” he said with a strained chuckle, taking a sip of his own steaming drink before returning the cup to the center console. “If you need anything today, anything at all, you let us know, OK?”

She wasn’t sure if he could see her nodding through the mirror as she turned to watch the trees passing by outside. Sighing, she noticed how the yellow and orange foliage crowning the highest hills was mostly obscured by the morning fog, with the gray clouds above completing the dreary scene.

Max’s unsettled stomach and dull headache slowly reminded her of the previous night’s inebriated lament. She tucked her chin down, staring into her lap as the disjointed images of sitting on the patio, releasing all those pent up tears, re-emerged in her memory.

 _Maybe that’s not why I feel like this… I hit my head on that sink just five days ago. I’m probably just dehydrated, haven’t had breakfast._ _Or maybe it’s_ _motion sickness?_

_Really, it could be anything…_

If her dad had noticed a bit less rum in his bottle of Captain Morgan’s, or had heard her weeping out there, he was merciful enough not to say anything.

_And if Vanessa knew, nothing would keep her from lecturing me. “Do you know how many alcohol-related injuries I saw on last night’s shift alone?”- I can already picture the look on her face…_

Peeking around the front passenger seat, Max was relieved to find her mother asleep, her head tilted to the side and resting against a balled-up sweatshirt. Though grateful not to have to speak with her during the ride, Max also knew this might be the only sleep Vanessa was getting after her late shift.

 _They’re both_ trying, _but, ugh… there’s still so much I can’t say._

_And if I could, they wouldn’t understand anyway…_

Staring off into the fog again, Max sighed as her mind focused in on their destination.

They were driving back to Arcadia Bay.

For Chloe’s funeral.

 _Fuck_.

She _definitely_ wasn’t prepared to face this.

Glancing at her dress hanging over the opposite window, then back to her dad’s reflection in the rearview, Max asked, “Um, are we… are we going straight to the… the-”

“Breakfast, sweetie,” he said, cutting her off with equal measures of compassion and avoidance in his voice, “with Joyce. I know it’s not easy, but try not to worry too much.”

“How far away are we?” Max broke mirror-eye contact, her gaze fixed out the window. _So not ready to talk to her. If she knew that this was my- that I’m the one who-_

“Look up ahead,” he replied, tilting his head towards something out the window.

As the car slowed down, she read the sign by the roadside:

[Another Great Day in]  
[ARCADIA BAY!]  
[Welcome]

Max’s heart sank, and her mother began to stir, when the undamaged lighthouse came into view. As the car carried them steadily closer to the half-blue house at 44 Cedar Ave., her dad’s exhausted voice became its own sort of beacon, keeping her thoughts from sailing too far adrift:

“We’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thanks once again to beta reader escherlat for your feedback on both early drafts of this chapter! As always, respectful comments, praise, & constructive criticism all welcome.
> 
> Welp. I was crying right along with Max as I wrote parts of this, and if you’re in the club with us, I hope you can find some comfort and relief. I at least hope that Max’s perseverance, compassion for her friends, and deep love for Chloe even when they’re “apart” came through alongside all the angst and struggle. And she absolutely has some fight in her… as we’ll see in the next chapters ;)
> 
> Until then, please take good care of yourselves & each other.  
> -Glitter


	5. Choir of Furies, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: heavy LiS/"Save Arcadia Bay ending" feels ahead! After returning to Arcadia Bay from her parent's home in Seattle, Max reconnects with Joyce and prepares for the event she's dreaded all week: Chloe's funeral. NOTE (5/8/19): Chapter 6 is up (both CH5&6 published on same day).
> 
> Solstice Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2OVeQFH  
> Content warnings: talk of death/murder, alcohol, domestic violence, strong language

**Song: Koethe –** [ **What If?** ](https://youtu.be/z1NOTgl-4yI)

* * *

_Ding_ _gg_ _-dong_.

Max stood behind her parents, sipping from her thermos and examining the home’s unfinished paint job as she waited for someone to answer the door. As she gazed at the uneven line dividing the abandoned blue coat of paint from the original off-white, the early morning fog slowly lifted, leaving each sign of disrepair starkly visible.

Turning to look at the dew-covered front yard where she once passed lazy afternoons with her best friend, Max miserably shifted her weight from one leg to the other, attempting to alleviate her queasy stomach and aching head. If her distracted parents detected her hangover – _possible hangover, maybe last night’s veggie sub went bad or something_ – they hadn’t mentioned it yet.

Thankfully.

The nausea was more bearable standing on the front steps than it had been when she sat in the moving car. Unfortunately, Vanessa woke up as soon as the Prius pulled up to the curb, chiding Max about her clothes as they each opened their doors and left the vehicle.

Max had been stewing about the mini-lecture on fashion and decorum ever since.

 _Maybe the moth_ is _a little creepy, and black isn’t a color she’s used to seeing_ _me in_ _… but what does she expect today?_

 _What does she think I’m_ supposed _to wear to breakfast before a fune-_ _on a day like_ _this_ _?_ _I already_ _promised_ _I’d put that dress_ _on_ _before the service…_

Just as her eyes fell on the familiar F-150 truck parked in the driveway, immediately pushing aside memories from That Week and noting that David’s car was nowhere to be seen, the house’s front door slowly creaked open.

“Ryan, Vee, come on in,” Joyce said, her voice flat and deflated as she waved the Caulfields inside. “And you said Max is with you?”

“H-hi, Joyce,” Max said as her dad entered the house, no longer shielding her from Joyce’s view. She noticed that, for the first time she could remember, the woman who’d been like a second mother to her wasn’t wearing make-up – and what was that small, swollen red mark over her cheek?

_Ugh, don’t stare! The last thing she needs is for me to be nosy…_

“And there she is – lovely young woman,” she replied, a hint of warmth momentarily gleaming in her eyes before her face fell once again, “I’m sorry… just sorry we’re not catching up under better… better circumstances.”

“No, please, you don’t have to apologize about that,” Ryan Caulfield replied as his wife quietly handed Joyce an envelope with a condolence card inside, “Times like these, we _all_ need our friends. And we’re so sorry for your loss.”

A lump formed in Max’s throat when she heard that word: “ _friends_.” She struggled to offer a weak smile, to graciously accept Joyce’s hug, and not to drift out of her body the way she had a few days earlier.

 _It feels so wrong to even walk into her home now. Joyce_ _looks so lost… and_ _doesn’t_ _even_ _know that_ I _did this… it’s_ my fault _her only child is… ugh, no,_ _try to focus. If she sees me looking guilty or upset, I’ll just make this even worse for her…_

The enticing smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes wafted through the hallway, pulling Max out of her thoughts and growing stronger as Joyce led her past the kitchen, gesturing for her to take a seat at the dining room table.

She stopped short as her gaze fell on two brilliant blue eyes, staring back at her from a large 11”x14” framed photograph sitting on the table next to the vase of withered flowers.

In the image, Chloe’s crooked grin barely contained her excitement as she stood on her toes, as if she’d been bouncing up and down, with a can of black spray paint held triumphantly in her left hand. Dressed in her sleeveless Misfit Skull shirt, ripped jeans, and black boots, the punk stood next to a chaotic yet skillfully painted mural: a kaleidoscope of butterflies collectively swarming the bright blue exterior wall. There must have been at least a hundred of them, and each pair of wings had its own unique, stylized design.

Vanessa nearly bumped into her daughter as she entered the dining room. After looking from Max’s transfixed expression to the photo, she finally fixed a concerned gaze on Joyce, who was bringing plates of food over from the kitchen.

“Joyce, this photo-” Vanessa said while Max blinked, snapped out of her daze, and took another sip from her thermos, “I mean, she looks happy, but how long have you had-”

“Vee, I tell ya, not a single thing makes sense anymore,” she replied with a slow, mournful sigh. Placing down one plate each of bacon and stacked pancakes, she added, “But I wasted too much time worryin’ ‘what will the neighbors think’ ‘bout my baby girl. Used to shake my head at this photo, but you know what? She was proud of herself. Her first paid commission, and her talent just shines on through…”

 _Wowser… it’s so good to hear her say that. And she_ is _an amazing artist, even better than when we were kids._

“ _That’s_ my Chloe,” Joyce continued with a bittersweet note of pride in her voice, returning to the kitchen for the remaining serving dishes as Max’s dad finished setting the table, “an’ it’s just too late to fuss over appearances. Just wish I’d figured that out before she… before…”

Her voice trailed off, her eyes staring through the sliding-glass door towards the backyard swing-set.

Vanessa gently grabbed the plates filled with eggs and biscuits out of her friend’s hands, placing them on the table before wrapping her in a tight hug. Tears rolled down the grieving mother’s cheeks as she sunk into the embrace.

By the time Max placed her thermos on the table and sat down alongside her dad, Joyce had pulled away, said a silent prayer, kissed her fingers and pressed them lightly against the photo. Max’s mother took her seat, encouraging her husband and daughter to begin filling their plates. Quickly composing herself and wiping her eyes, Joyce rejoined the Caulfields soon afterwards, and they quietly started eating their meal together.

With the photo still there on the table, her appetite still M.I.A., and her stomach still unsettled, breakfast was a challenging affair for Max. Frequent sips of coffee from the thermos helped with averting parental eyes and delaying actual bites of food. She’d only taken a small portion of eggs, just one biscuit, half a pancake – the less food she started with, the less obvious it’d be when she barely ate any of it.

She hoped.

“Joyce, there just aren’t words for a time like this,” her dad said, clearing his throat as he speared another pancake with his fork and moved it to his plate, “But if there’s anything we can do to help you and David, _anything_ , you just-”

“-he won’t be joining us. Just for the service,” she replied, her lips pressed to a thin line as she looked blankly down at her plate, “But thank you.”

Max’s parents exchanged concerned glances.

Placing her fork down, Vanessa looked her friend in the eyes and said, “Joyce, what happened? Are you OK? …You didn’t actually ‘fall in the shower’ before we talked yesterday, did you?”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped and she gingerly touched one hand to her cheek, sinking back into her chair with a weary sigh. The woman who’d always seemed confident and poised, who’d held her own every day no matter how unruly the diner’s customers were or how cutting her daughter’s sarcastic retorts could be, who’d carried the world on her shoulders with such grace, looked completely drained. _Defeated._

Blinking several times and holding back tears, she glanced briefly at Max, then to the framed photo, and back to Vanessa. She crossed her arms and struggled to sit back up.

“I _did_ fall but, that’s not how I got this,” she haltingly replied, gesturing to the welt under her eye. “David, he… he blames himself for what that boy did. The war’s been back in his head all week, and then yesterday they fired him-”

“Joyce,” her mother cut in, her steady voice taking on a sympathetic yet slightly controlling _mama paramedic_ tone, “ _What happened?_ ”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I know he didn’t mean it, he’s been under so much stress, an’ I know he’s sorry-” seeing Vanessa raise her eyebrow skeptically, Joyce sighed and continued, “He came home and we got into it. He wanted them to bury my baby in a _dress_ , an’ I know she wouldn’t want that… he had a _long_ list of complaints about the… arrangements… but what was I gonna do? Well, it got heated…”

She paused, shaking her head as she carefully wiped her eyes with a napkin.

“And he _hit_ you?” Vanessa replied. Joyce responded with a reluctant, almost imperceptible nod as her friend continued, “With his ring on… How many times? Any other injuries?”

“Nessa,” Ryan said, shaking his head, “This is _Joyce_ , dear, can we take a moment to-”

“He pushed me, too. Put a hole in our bedroom wall,” she said, a dazed expression crossing her face, “I figure those flashbacks of his just _take over_ sometimes. Only hit me the once, before he snapped out of it.”

“I’m so sorry, Joyce,” Vanessa replied, Max and Ryan solemnly nodding their agreement, “You didn’t do _anything_ to deserve what he did. You understand?”

Joyce shrugged, nodding ambivalently and standing to collect the empty plates as she said, “Well, he’s at a hotel. After he was gone, I found all these cameras… wouldn’t you know it? He set ‘em up without tellin’ me… He _did_ call this mornin’ with his ‘sorry’s. Said he applied for this program that helps veterans who… who are in crisis, tryin’ to make a new start.”

“What about… what about _today_?” Max softly asked, motioning for Joyce to sit back down as she grabbed the stack of plates, “Will he be there?”

Everyone paused, her parents each doing a double-take as they looked at her – almost as if they’d forgotten she was sitting there.

“He will. We have an… understanding about today. We both loved… _love_ Chloe. We don’t want our ‘situation’ to be a distraction so for a few hours we’re goin’ on like nothin’ happened. Two men from the program will be with him the whole time. But _please, please_ don’t tell anyone about our fight? Not just yet?”

 _He hurt his family_ again… _he hurt Joyce!_ _I_ _n the other timeline, in the bunker,_ _he said he cared_ _and I wanted to believe him._ _H_ _ow could he do this?_

 _I guess I’ve hurt people I care about too, betrayed their trust… especially Chloe… But still._ _H_ _ow can we all just pretend nothing’s wrong?_

“Joyce,” Max said, slowly closing and opening her mostly-healed fists in frustration and struggling to keep the harsh sting of her thoughts from bleeding into her words, “I know this is so hard, but I don’t understand. Didn’t you tell me it’s ‘too late to fuss over appearances’?”

“We won’t be, Max. I _need_ David today, and he needs me, too. This week, well...” she said, shaking her head. A faint smile crossed her lips as she met Max’s eyes and added, “She’d be proud of you, speakin’ your mind like that. I am, too.”

_You wouldn’t be, if you knew…_

“Th-thanks,” she replied, shrugging up one shoulder and looking away.

As Max and her dad cleaned up and stored the breakfast leftovers, her mother guided Joyce to the couch and sat next to her. Placing an arm over her shoulder, Vanessa quietly talked with Joyce as the grieving mother leaned into her friend’s comforting embrace. Though their voices were too low for Max to hear, knowing her mother, she could envision the mix of well-intended reassurance and standard domestic violence safety planning in their conversation.

 _Whatever they’re saying, at least she looks a little less crushed. She’_ _s lost so much already… and she_ so _doesn’t deserve_ _any of this…_

After the two mothers stood up and hugged, Joyce called out, “Max? Darlin’, come upstairs with me, would you? There’s somethin’ I want to show you.”

_Her room…? I can’t! Not now… not today!_

Hoping for a way out, Max looked to her dad.

“We have a little time,” he said with a shrug, glancing at his wife. “What do you think, Nessa?”

“Your father and I will be right outside, dear. It’s up to you.”

_But how could I say no to Joyce?_

“Oh… Okay. I mean, of course. Lead the way.”

* * *

Max held her breath all the way up the stairs, finally releasing the pent up air all at once as they passed by Chloe’s door.

“Keep Out,” she said to herself in a hushed tone, reading the sign with a sad sense of irony as they walked down the hall.

Her eyebrows raised as Joyce opened the closet and walked inside, instantly remembering her own precarious journey up into the attic over five years ago. In retrospect, it amazed her that she’d risk a potentially nasty fall to get up there without any help – but even back then, spending time with Chloe always made her feel a little more bold and daring.

The tension that had grown throughout her body on her way up the stairs released slightly as a half-second of lightness and gratitude struck her, but it was immediately followed by bitter pangs of guilt. To remember the fun they’d had together, her best friend’s constant encouragement, and how much stronger she felt standing by her side… it all just reinforced the inescapable fact that Chloe was still _gone._

Without realizing it, the thought made her narrow her eyes and clench her teeth so tightly that her jaw began to ache. Counting out breaths as she waited in the hallway, she listened to the sound of objects being rearranged within the closet, and eventually relaxed her face to a more neutral expression. After a couple minutes, the rustling from the closet was replaced by footsteps.

Emerging from the closet with an open cardboard package in her arms labeled [Picture Box], Joyce leaned back against the wall and closed the door with her foot.

“Now, don’t you feel any pressure. If you tell me ‘no’ I won’t think anything of it. But we… I mean, _I_ , have more photos than I could ever fit in an album, some of ‘em from when you were kids. Before movin’ this on up to the attic, I wanted to offer you the chance to look through it? Keep it, if you like?”

Max cradled her elbow in her opposite hand, her eyes shifting up to the framed image of Arcadia Bay hanging in the hallway, then back to the box.

“You… you want to get rid of-”

“Oh, heavens no, Max! Don’t even think that for a _minute._ Her beautiful smile, even that… _unique_ tattoo, will grace every room of this house so long as I’m here,” Joyce said, freeing one hand and reaching for the closet’s doorknob, “Look, the last thing I wanted was to upset you. Let’s just forget-”

“No,” Max replied, looking into Joyce’s reddened, exhausted eyes, “I’ll take it with me. Th-thank you… I was just a little surprised. But it’s so thoughtful of you, and at a time like this…”

Joyce nodded, gently squeezing Max’s shoulder before leading her back downstairs and placing the box on the kitchen table next to the framed picture.

As they sat down together, Joyce began pulling out photos while Max picked up her thermos and drank the last of her morning coffee. Sitting this close to the box, she now noticed a faint chemical scent rising from it, like a mix of cleaning detergent and leather treatment, though she couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh! Now Max, there’s more than just photos in here. It’s all yours if you want it,” Joyce said, pulling an object from the box and setting it on the table.

_Is that what I think it is? ...what was William’s camera doing in that box?_

_Oh, Joyce… has she been going through Chloe’s room?_

Sliding the dusty Polaroid camera to Max, she added, “I know William would just love for you to have this. Always made him smile when you watched him use it.”

“I… Joyce, that’s so kind,” Max replied, her leg silently shaking under the table as she picked it up, running her fingers along its boxy outer casing, “I don’t know what to say. Are you sure?”

_Didn’t she hear about… about the binder with my name?_

_How do I tell her I can’t anymore… that I don’t…?_

“Yes, darlin’, I’m sure. I know I’m not the _only_ one havin’ a rough week,” she said, glancing at Max’s hands with a caring look in her eye and subtly nodding towards the sliding-glass door as she continued, “And a little birdie told me you might need a replacement.”

_With everything she’s going through, I can’t just refuse her gift…_

“Th-thanks.”

Joyce leaned back in her chair with a proud, relieved expression on her otherwise exhausted face as Max carefully placed the camera back in the box.

Eager to put the conversation behind them, she looked through some of the photographs. At first, Max focused on shots of the blue-haired punk from recent years. In one, she was proudly grinning by her truck with grease caked on her hands; in another, she sat at her desk with a pen in hand, completely focused on the drawing she was working on.

Her attention shifted as Joyce showed her images of an energetic blonde-haired elementary school kid and her best friend hanging out with Bongo, fencing with toy rapiers, playing hide-and-seek, and dressing up for Halloween. They smiled and lingered over the final photograph in this group: ten-year-old Chloe hugging her mother while flashing a huge, cheesy grin.

In that moment, a memory from her last minutes in her old timeline flashed through Max’s mind:

“ _...not like my mom. Look what she had to give up and live through… and she did. She deserves so much more than to be killed by a Storm in a fucking diner!”_

As her best friend’s voice faded and her attention returned to Joyce, Max looked into her tired eyes and said, “Chloe loved you _so_ _much_. She told me… she knew how much you gave for her every day, even if she didn’t always-”

“I love her too, Max. I’ll _always_ love her.”

Placing the photos down, she reached over and clasped Max’s hands in her own, meeting her eyes with a bittersweet yet relieved expression. Max focused on taking slow, careful breaths, pushing aside her other thoughts to allow Joyce this moment of connection and remembrance.

When they let go and picked up another set of pictures, for a short time, the air in the house felt lighter. Joyce seemed almost relaxed, and Max could nearly forget the reason why they were looking through old photographs. These were warm memories, and they shared a few blissful minutes of simple, fond reminiscence before an uncomfortable silence fell between them.

… _but_ _all of these memories_ _are behind us, now._ _Lost_ _foreve_ _r. Like her…_

Every hint of relief suddenly drained from Joyce’s face, her lips returning to the same forlorn frown and her eyes taking on the same stunned, empty look they’d had when the Caulfields first arrived.

Max was at a loss for words. Another wave of resentful sorrow crashed against the crumbling barrier around her heart, its swells just barely creeping over the top as she blinked and struggled to prevent any teardrops from forming.

_No… I need to be strong for Joyce right now. She’ll just worry if I-_

“Max, sweetheart?”

Startled at hearing Ryan Caulfield’s voice, Joyce and Max both jumped in their seats.

“So sorry to interrupt,” he said, closing the sliding-glass door behind him as he re-entered with Vanessa, “but we need to go soon. If you want to drop your bags off at Blackwell before the service-”

Packing the pictures back into the box and nodding a little too quickly, Max answered with a wavering voice, “It’s okay, Pop. We- we were just-”

“Just rememberin’ old times,” Joyce said, bringing Max in for a quick hug, “But you’re right, time won’t wait for us, an' I’ve still got to get ready and pick up the flowers.”

Lifting her chin with a brave, forced smile, she continued, “Vee, Ryan, Max- thank you so much for comin’ by. I couldn’t have faced this mornin’ alone, I don’t think.”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Ryan said, “We’ll see you at the service, but until then, ‘May the road rise to meet you.’”

“We’re here for you,” Vanessa said, also accepting a hug from Joyce as Max placed her thermos in the box and picked it up from the table, “ _Anything_ you need, OK? We’ll see you soon.”

“From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You drive safe, now.”

* * *

“ _Show a little life_  
_Your love is just an echo_  
_A little past, a few years_  
_Take care_  
_Take care  
__Take care of my love”_

**Roah Summit –[Take Care](https://youtu.be/7_KPavN5AS8)**

* * *

On her second trip from the desolate Blackwell parking lot to her dorm room, Max paused outside the closed door, rolling her luggage to a stop and holding her dress up by its hanger.

Though her parents had offered to help carry it all up in one go, and few students were awake at this early hour, the thought of being spotted _with her parents_ in the dorms nearly gave her an anxiety attack all on its own.

 _I still have_ some _pride!_

She’d left them waiting in the car, pretending not to hear their hushed discussion about the school flying its flags at half-mast: U.S., Oregon, and Blackwell alike. She first strapped on her guitar case and hauled the box of photos up the stairs, depositing them under her whiteboard. On her next trip, she brought her luggage, messenger bag, and dress.

Catching her breath, she lingered in the hallway after that second trek up the stairs. She knew she didn’t have much time to drop off her belongings and change her clothes. Yet she hadn’t really processed seeing Joyce again, and being back on campus was… daunting.

The dorms were as quiet as she’d expected for a Saturday morning, with running water from the shower room providing the only sign that anyone was up. Yet she found reminders of the past week – in several timelines – around every corner. Without other students around, she was once again alone with her own thoughts.

 _There’s no way I could stay in Seattle, like Vanessa wants… but it’s so weird to be here, too. How can anyone just… go on…_ _after what happened here?_

She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her forehead, quickly letting go when she noticed the dull, throbbing pain this caused. Blinking in the dim hallway, she finally opened the door and walked into her room, dragging her luggage inside. As soon as she rolled it to a stop, she opened its main compartment and removed the pirate-themed musical snow globe that she’d brought from her room in Seattle, setting it atop her chest of drawers, right in front of her stereo.

Moving her messenger bag and guitar case into the room, she hooked the dress hanger over her closet door before returning to the hallway to grab the photo box. As she closed the door behind her and placed the box on the floor, one of the flaps slipped open, and a gleam of refracted light from within the box caught her eye.

_What the…? What else did Joyce pack in here?_

After removing the camera and placing it on her desk, Max sat on her rug next to the box and began carefully moving photos aside. Her effort uncovered a small plastic Zip-loc bag with several items inside, including her best friend’s bullet necklace and spiked bracelet. Her entire body felt heavy and slow as she picked the bag up with both hands, holding her breath as she transferred it onto the chest of drawers.

Returning to the box, she removed an unstained leather jacket that had been buried underneath the photos. As she hugged the jacket to her chest with a deep, shuddering sigh, she closed her eyes and silently rocked forward and back.

Holding the jacket close brought a rush of comfort and longing within her… and _also_ made her realize that it was likely the source of the box’s chemical smell.

_They must have had it cleaned after… after what happened…_

When she was finished solemnly hanging the jacket in her closet, she turned around, refusing to allow _that_ set of memories and emotions to get a foothold.

Shaking her head, she walked to the opposite end of the room, relieved to find Lisa looking healthy. Her leaves were a deep verdant green and her soil was still damp.

_Thank you, Dana._

Turning again to look towards her bed, she took a deep breath.

_OK, Max… just gonna get dressed and go back out. Nothing else to think about…_

Max’s mind shifted into auto-pilot through removing her hoodie, moth pattern shirt, and jeans. Pulling both shirts over her head brought the pulsing ache back, and her mind cycled through all its possible causes. Remembering how – according to Victoria – she’d collapsed and knocked her head against the bathroom sink on her way down, she glanced up to the mirror in her room to check how that bruise was healing.

“Oh…” she muttered, finding a towel still draped over the glass, completely obscuring her view.

 _Hope Dana didn’t notice_ , she thought as she removed the towel, pulling her hair back with one hand to see the bruises in her reflection.

 _Well, at least that’s starting to fade… but u_ _g_ _h, my face_ _look_ _s_ _even worse than I feel,_ she thought, noting the blatant bags under her eyes and her fatigued frown.

In the mirror, Other Max looked down curiously at her own bra and underwear, blushing and letting out a surprised “Oh!” before meeting Max’s eyes with a somber expression.

“You again? I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Max grumbled under her breath with a frustrated sigh, glancing at the dress before focusing her attention back on the mirror.

“Me again,” she softly replied, holding her arm with the opposite hand as a small, unreadable smile crossed her lips, “Actually, I’m… I’m glad you came back. It’s good to see you.”

“ _What_?” Max said, glowering at her reflection. “Look, I’ve gotta g-”

“I’ve b-been where you’re at, Max,” the doppelganger said in a patient, compassionate tone, “I remember what it was like, right down to that awful hangover.”

Max glared into the mirror.

“Not judging you for that, _promise_ ,” her reflection went on, “I’m just trying to tell you: I understand. This was… um, _will be_ … a hard day, and… I’m not going to add to it. OK?”

“And you _don’t_ think Monday was hard? Or that time you taunted me in my own Nightmare?” Max scoffed. As her reflection silently looked away, Max added with an exasperated tone, “…Well? What gives? Why were you so _pissed_ at me?”

“That was… a little impulsive,” Other Max replied, looking down at her feet as she continued, “I kind of lost it b-because I’d _just_ learned about you, about what happened when you lef- n-no, look. We can t-talk about this later.”

The young woman in the mirror lifted her eyes, her shoulders dropping in relief as she noticed Max’s face had softened. Max listened as she pulled on her usual set of wristbands: one pale blue, one blood red.

With a deep breath, Other Max continued, “You’re gonna get through today. It’ll hurt, more than I can even t-tell you, but… you’re stronger than you know, Max. You can m-make it to tomorrow. I just wanted to t-tell you that.”

As her reflection tried to offer encouragement, Max’s thin, fraying layer of numbness only barely shielded her from the confusing swirl of emotions that rose up within her. Part of her was unexpectedly touched, even comforted, by someone- _anyone_ \- believing she could make it through the fune- through the rest of the day somehow.

 _But what if she’s like Vanessa on a bad day…? Just being nice so she can_ _twist_ _the knife deeper next time?_

 _Still, she seems so…_ lost _, right now. She’s acting_ exactly _like I do when I’m down, or ashamed, or both… and I’_ _ve got to figure out, h_ _ow does she know any of this?_

“You said you’ve ‘been through this?’ Like, in another timeline?”

Her reflection nodded solemnly, and Max reached for the black dress as she continued, “How? What was it like? How did you-”

“You can’t know how you’ll feel, 'til you’re there. It’s a tidal wave, it just _hits_ you, and… _no one_ can ever be ‘ready.’ I’d never hurt as much as that day, but,” Other Max swallowed hard, looking off to the side for a brief moment, “You can’t just hold it in, so you let yourself feel as much as you can bear. Then, the worst is over. You just try to make it to the next moment, and the next, until it doesn’t feel so overwhelming anymore.”

_OK. Maybe I’ve finally gone off the deep end, but… I believe her._

_Is it weird to feel a little less shitty, hearing all this? Like someone ‘gets’ me…_

Pulling the dress on, Max smoothed, adjusted, and tugged at the fabric as she replied, “Um, thanks. Really. I… I still don’t know why you’re being so friendly all the sudden, but. That helps more than anything else I’ve heard today.”

“Good, good. I’m sorry about before,” her reflection said, looking relieved to be fully dressed again. “Hey, don’t forget the shawl! Might want to bring a jacket, too.”

Max nodded, draping the shawl over her shoulders before opening the plastic Zip-loc bag on her dresser. Removing the spiked bracelet from the bag, she slid it over her right hand reverently as she replied, “Thank you.”

Seeing the bracelet, Other Max’s weak smile faded completely, a look of profound sorrow crossing her face. “You should probably get going,” she said, tears pearling in her eyes, “There’s not a lot of parking at the funeral home. Those shoes are pretty painful to walk in, so… you’ll want a good space.”

Max nodded, slipping on the doe necklace that inexplicably reminded her of Rachel. Regarding her reflection with concern, she said, “Yeah, I figured. Hey, are you gonna be OK? You seem-”

“Oh, no- I mean yes. I’ll be fine,” she replied with a sniffle, “Don’t worry about me. Just remember what I said. You’re gonna make it through.”

“Thank you. I’ll try,” Max said with a nod, putting her shoes on with a wince, grabbing a small black handbag, and casting one final glance into the mirror before leaving the room. 

* * *

“ _There are moments when it doesn’t feel like it will get any better, when you wonder ‘how do you keep going if it’s going to hurt this much?’ Then, if you get up and put one foot in front of the other… muddle your way through what life is during those stages of grief, then it doesn’t hurt as much, a little bit less. And then maybe it hurts again the next week, but little by little, it isn’t as intense.”_

 **Ashly Burch** – interview, [Blackwell Podcast #53](https://youtu.be/dW488DNXzMc)

* * *

When Max’s phone _buzzed_ as she pushed open the door at the end of her hall, she balled her fists and tried to hurry down the stairs as best she could in her uncomfortable, already-blister-inducing shoes.

_OK, Dad, Vanesssa- I’m coming! Moving as fast as I can!_

As she rounded the bottom of one set of stairs, holding onto the railing and letting her momentum swing her around towards the next set, she yelped as she collided with another student.

“H-hey!” Max said, backing away in stutter-steps and picking her handbag back up from where it fell.

“Why can’t you _watch_ where the _fuck_ you’re going, you twee-” Victoria huffed out an incensed breath and shook her head, clasping her hands together. Moving uncomfortably close to Max and coldly examining her face with a knowing look, she said, “… _you’re_ hungover? Well isn’t that precious.”

“Victoria, I just… I’m sorry, OK?” Max said, carefully backing into the wall as she changed the subject, and struggling not to sound as impatient as she felt, “Are you hurt?”

“Am I _hurt_?” her classmate sneered. Resting one hand on her hip, she leaned back against the stairway’s railing, sighing as her posture slowly relaxed. With much less venom in her words, she added, “I don’t _get_ you, Caulfield. Why do you bother being _nice_ to people who don’t fucking deserve it?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“God, just _stop_ , OK? I forgive you! Maybe _pay_ _attention_ next time you’re- I mean, where are you rushing off to any-” Victoria paused, placing a hand over her own mouth as her gaze drifted downwards from Max’s face to her outfit. An “Ahhhhhh” passed through her covered lips and an oddly empathetic glow came to her eyes as the realization dawned on her.

“You _do_ deserve it,” Max said quietly as she took in the taller girl’s outfit: black dress pants, dark grey suit jacket over a light grey collared sweater. “Are you, um, are you going to Chloe’s funeral too?”

Victoria nodded, lowering her hand and speaking with an intense sincerity that Max recognized from their last conversation. “I’m sorry for your loss, Max. We didn’t always get along, but… OK, I was super jealous of Rachel and I was a total b-” she drew a deep breath, closing her eyes for a long moment before continuing.

“Um, I’m attending the burial. Not, like, the service? I’m not trying to dis her, I swear!” she said, shaking her head, “This week’s just been a fucking _mess_ , and first I’ve got to hold Taylor together through her mom’s funeral… It’s all so fucking surreal…”

“I’m sorry for your loss, too,” Max replied, “And Taylor’s. I can’t even imagine.”

“Well, I don’t have to.”

A _buzz_ from Max’s phone interrupted the silence that followed, drawing a resigned sigh.

“Um, I gotta go,” she said, moving towards the steps leading down to the ground floor, “but do you want a ride?”

“Thanks, but I’m good,” Victoria replied, “Or I will be, once I grab my keys. Worst day _ever_ to forget them.”

“I totally get it,” Max said, quickly tapping out a message to her parents before returning the phone to her handbag.

“Hey, Max, before you go?” Victoria said, glancing cautiously at the doors above and below them before continuing, “Thanks again… for warning me about Mar- about Mr. Jefferson. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure thing, Victoria. Someone here told me, we’ve all got to look out for each other,” Max replied. “Thanks for… for what you told me, about Monday. And for taking down the video.”

“Ugh, I feel awful about that…” she replied, “After all this is over, I’ll tell Kate that, too. This week makes all that shit I pulled just seem…” she paused, with a regretful sigh, “Like another life, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Max said, gently touching Victoria’s arm, “I think an apology would mean _a lot_ to Kate. And… you know, if you want, we have this group. We kind of share tips on… on trying to just survive all this heavy shit… Like, with what Jeffersh- um, Mark Jefferson, did. You could come check out one of our meetings? Or if you ever want to talk about that-”

Max stopped speaking as their eyes met, and remained locked in an unsure, soul-stirring stare. The muscles in Victoria’s face seemed drawn and taut, her expertly made-up eyelids narrowed slightly, as if she was fighting a long and bloody war behind each of her intense green eyes.

She could swear she even saw the taller girl’s lips trembling a bit.

“Thanks,” Victoria whispered, stiffly opening her arms and gesturing for Max to come in for a hug, “I’ll text you about it. Tell anyone and I’ll deny it _and_ destroy you.”

“Got it,” Max said, exhaling and nervously laughing as she caught the subtly teasing inflection in her classmate’s last few words. Stunned at Victoria’s gesture, she hesitantly accepted.

Though brief and unexpected, their embrace was close, warm, and about ten billion times more comfortable than whatever Max expected a hug from Victoria might feel like.

Though she’d never admit it, she’d kind of needed a hug just then, too.

“I’ll see you later?” Max said as they pulled away from each other.

“You will,” she replied, quickly walking up the stairs, “Au revoir.”

With a nod, Max began descending the final set of steps to the ground floor. As she made her way out of the dorm building, Max was alarmed to find that the memorials were now gone.

_What the…? How could they do that? Where did it all go?_

The glaring absence of the candles, photos, messages and mementos darkened Max’s mood. As she walked across campus, passing the three flags still flying at half-mast outside the main building, she couldn’t shake a visceral feeling of emptiness at the pit of her stomach.

When she climbed back into her dad’s black Prius, the emptiness shifted into an aimless, amorphous sense of irritation that gnawed at her insides every time she remembered the image of those blank spaces where Chloe’s and Rachel’s memorials used to be.

* * *

_“look at all the people with their heads down in their hands_  
_when everything i'm feeling makes it hard to understand_  
_that, uh,_  
_what i need to miss, it’s_  
_what i need to miss_  
_is you”_

 **Eels –** [ **Going To Your Funeral Part I** ](https://youtu.be/Z6b4zcy0-Zw)

* * *

“...and we’ll never forget her boundless energy, her clever jokes, or the smiles and laughter she brought into our home,” Ryan Caulfield said during the last minutes of the service, standing tall in his black suit as he addressed the small gathering inside the funeral parlor.

Max had zoned out through most of the speeches and eulogies. When she declined her invitation to speak, everyone seemed to assume she was either too shy or too overwhelmed with grief to find the words. _True enough_ , she thought, _but they don’t_ _know_ _how much I’d have to hide… they don’t get that_ _she’s_ _a_ hero _,_ _that they’re all here because of her…_ _they don’t know what she means to m_ _e, or that I could have saved her…_

Waiving away her chance to _try_ sharing _something_ about her best friend would become one more decision thrown upon her ever-growing pile of regrets – she realized this instantly.

Even without her Rewind, sometimes she knew she _wanted_ to choose differently.

She still couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Sitting in the quiet, stuffy funeral home, listening to people in formalwear try to find something meaningful to say, also struck her as disturbingly _final_ and vaguely inappropriate. She didn’t know how to react to others’ tears and trailed-off comments. On top of that, she doubted _this_ polite ritual was really how the blue-haired punk would’ve wanted to be remembered.

Halfway through her father’s statement, she did ultimately begin to pay attention again, subtly rubbing her bare arms as she listened.

Looking directly at Joyce, who sat holding David’s hand with tears in both of their eyes, Max’s dad continued speaking in a sincere and reassuring tone, “My _daideo_ had a saying, brought over and passed down from the Old Country:

“‘Death leaves a heartache  
no one can heal;  
Love leaves a memory  
no one can steal.’

“Even as we mourn today, may we all be comforted by the loving memory of the incomparable, Chloe Price. Thank you.”

As Ryan returned to his seat, an unfamiliar but well-dressed man announced that the viewing would begin shortly, to be followed by a procession to the burial site. Joyce stood and walked towards the front of the room, leaving David sitting alongside two stocky strangers with crewcuts.

_I wonder if they’re from the veterans’ group…?_

Aside from a few whispered conversations here and there – some focused on that swollen mark beneath Joyce’s eye – the room was soon filled with the helpless tittering of adults who’d already exhausted their short list of rote platitudes.

As Max rose from her seat, walked to the center aisle, and stood in line for the viewing, she felt as if time slowed to an almost unbearable crawl.

She wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before she heard Joyce’s stifled sobbing and the slow-motion _clak-clak_ of her black heels as she turned and walked away from the casket, the room’s wooden door creaking shut with her departure.

Now, she felt as if everyone’s eyes had shifted from the grieving mother to the stunned and awkward best friend. Her hands pulled absently at the seams and edges of her dress, which somehow felt even itchier than earlier, and ten times more uncomfortable. Her feet were blistering in the rarely-worn formal shoes, and her arms shivered more from simply being exposed than any actual chill in the room.

 _I should’ve brought the shawl…_ of course _I’d leave it in the car…_

_They’re all looking at me… I can’t do this!_

As her feet shuffled forward, her lower lip began to quiver. Her eyes drifted anywhere but forward: to the hardwood floor, to her handbag’s zipper, to the blue floral arrangements off to either side.

_This was a terrible idea and I should just leave. I’ll get it together and come back for the… the procession. Ugh these shoes fucking hurt. Why do we even dress up for…_

_Oh_.

She’d stopped moving forward.

Standing before the polished wood casket, its lid held open from the torso upwards, Max swallowed hard and reluctantly counted out two deep breaths.

In _, two, three, four…_ Out _, two, three, four, five, six…_

_I… I have to do this…_

* * *

_“So what if it was destiny?_  
_Now there's nothing left for us to be_  
_I will never take back what you meant to me_  
_I was in love and I meant it for eternity_  
  
_And I still do”_

 **Riley Hawke –** [ **I Still Do** ](https://youtu.be/au0asucYHXA)

* * *

Instinctively covering her mouth through a silent gasp, her eyes finally shifted into the open casket, taking in her best friend’s neatly-combed blue hair and unnervingly peaceful expression. Beneath William’s unzipped brown jacket, Chloe wore a black Firewalk T-shirt.

 _Forever punk,_ _the way you would’ve wanted. Guess Joyce wanted to steer clear of the skull shirts though… can’t say I blame her…_

Shortly after she removed her right hand from her lips, it hovered awkwardly in front of her and above the lip of the coffin.

_Is it weird to want to touch…? Are you not supposed to?_

The spiked bracelet slid down her wrist, nearly slipping over her small hand and into the casket before Max noticed and jerked it back. Her cheeks burned as her eyes quickly scanned the room to see if anyone had noticed. After coasting the sea of politely averted eyes, she exhaled and focused once again on her best friend.

For a moment, her mind went completely blank.

She’d been through this before, with William and her own grandmother. Why couldn’t she remember what she was supposed to be doing?

_I just… I can’t believe…_

_How can this be the last time…?_

Cutting through her fragmented thoughts, her photographer’s eye focused in on each detail of Chloe’s body. Snapping a mental picture, she committed everything to memory: her best friend’s folded hands, blue nail polish, loose-fitting jacket, lowered eyelids, and closed lips…

Her gaze lingered there as mind and body once again drifted into her last memories from the other timeline. She could almost taste the salt from their tears mixing with the driving rain, the mint covering traces of tobacco…

“ _I’ll always love you… Now, get out of here, please! Do it before I freak.”_

How could they finally share a longed-for, heart-spinning, soul-baring kiss, only to say goodbye forever?

_You’re gone… it’s my fault, and you’re gone…_

She heard her own unsteady breaths in the funeral home’s pindrop silence, and realized her hands and knees were beginning to shake. She’d need to move soon, if she didn’t want to collapse.

“Ch-Chloe,” she whispered, one hand awkwardly holding her opposite arm as she struggled to speak.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, her lower lip trembling, “You d-didn’t deserve this. It… it should’ve b-been me, lying there.”

“I’ll never forget you, Chloe. I promise. And I will always, always love you.”

A last, desperate voice inside her still clamored for some way out, some way to bring her back to life again. She imagined the punk leaping out of there, grabbing her hand, slamming the door behind them with a sarcastic comment and obscene gesture on her way out.

Even when she was hurting, she had always been _full of life._

 _Always_.

And she still _would_ be, if Max just-

_Oh no… nonono not again…_

She heard the same low _hum_ , _buzz_ , _zzzshhh_ and _crackle_ of static in her head – the sounds that signaled she was nearing the edge. Earlier in the week, she’d careened over it, waking up with a broken camera, a hurt friend, and her own injuries.

Yet two days ago, back in Seattle, she’d been able to stop the noise from taking over when that pirate-themed gift brought back memories.

 _I… how did I make it stop? Did I- yes, I left the room, I ate, I distracted my- leave. Must leave. I_ have to _leave._ _ **Now.**_

Heads turned as Max ran away from the casket, nearly tripping over her feet in the ill-fitting formal shoes on her way out of the building. With her face drained of color, her wide eyes and her shallow breaths, she left a hushed chorus of concerned murmurs in her wake. The commotion alerted her parents, though she didn’t even notice them calling out to her until they’d all made it back to the car.

“P-please, I just… I just need a m-minute,” she said, holding one palm up defensively to keep them away while leaning against the back door.

For once, they gave her space.

“We’ll be right here in the car, sweetie,” her dad said, his voice soft and his brow furrowed as he slowly walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door.

As Max struggled to count out slow, deep, intentional breaths, she pulled out her phone and read a few of the brief and encouraging texts her friends had sent. In her still-unsteady state, the “[Sending love]”s and “[If you need to talk]”s blurred together, but she appreciated them all the same.

Even moreso, it helped knowing she _could_ call or text someone if she needed to. Whatever was going on in her head, she didn’t _have_ to face it alone.

As her breathing evened out, she also remembered Other Max’s words from her mirror earlier that morning, drawing unexpected comfort from them: _“You’re gonna get through today. It’ll hurt, more than I can even t-tell you, but… you’re st-stronger than you know, Max. You can make it to tomorrow_.”

The chaotic noise in her head grew faint, then faded away entirely.

Back in the car, she exchanged only a few words with her parents, asking to get some food and coffee before… well, before the rest of their plans. _N_ _othing_ could truly prepare her. But by the time she’d finished her meal and her dad’s black Prius joined the funeral procession, she had at least avoided “causing a scene” at the funeral home or in the car.

_I could’ve saved her, and I failed… without my powers, what else can I do now?_

_I have to face it._

_How does anybody face_ this?

* * *

_“Forget the horror here_  
_Forget the horror here_  
_Leave it all down here_  
_It's future rust and it's future dust_

 _Choir of furies in your head_  
_Choir of furies in your bed_  
_I'm the ghost in the back of your head_  
  
_'Cause I am”_

 **DOLKINS –** **[Spanish Sahara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VUkelSNHbw) ** **(Foals cover)**

* * *

The funeral procession slowly rolled through Arcadia Bay, each vehicle displaying two small blue flags declaring [FUNERAL] on their hoods or out their front windows.

In miles, the distance from the funeral home to the cemetery wasn’t terribly far. But to Max, it might as well have been a cross-country road trip, for all the discomfort and impatience she felt along the way. Not to mention the taciturn pair of parents in the front seat, who kept looking at her through the car’s mirrors with an aggravatingly urgent concern in their eyes.

Stuck in this car, stuck with her parents, stuck in this dress with its itchy seams and bare arms – she already longed to be back at Blackwell in her normal, _comfortable_ clothes.

Worst of all, each insistent _BEEEEP-BEEEEP_ from the procession, and each well-intended _HONNNNK!_ from passing cars and bikes, made Max shudder or jump in her seat. Dr. Hank had called that her “startle response.”

Having a name for it didn’t fucking help her deal with it, though.

Reading through the remaining texts from friends took the edge off. Kate, Dana, and Warren mentioned that they’d see her at the cemetery. Stella and Alyssa each sent their condolences.

She was surprised to see Victoria’s name among the senders, and promised herself she’d respond to her message later on. She cared, and was impressed to see her classmate reach out so quickly, but she did _not_ have the energy to reply to texts right now. At least, not to reply _tactfully_.

At long last, they pulled into the cemetery parking lot, and Max shielded her eyes against the glaringly bright afternoon sun as she stepped out of the car. Still adjusting, she silently stretched her legs and put on her shawl before joining the glacially slow walking procession.

The last time she’d seen the Arcadia Bay Cemetery’s entrance sign on its wrought iron frame, it had been flying across a TV screen in her nightmare. This time, the sight of it made her heart sink, partly shaking her out of the anxious, cranky feeling she’d had in the car.

_That horrible dream wasn’t real… but this is. This is really happening._

_Haven’t actually been back here since William’s funeral, the day we left…_

She followed the others, each plodding step forward taking a little more effort on her part. Far ahead of her, Joyce was weeping and leaning against David. Principal Wells walked off to the side of the path, staring down.

_Hmph… he never cared about her, never cared about the gun either…_

Behind Max, the two other men with military haircuts took up the rear of the procession, close enough to keep their eyes on David, but separated from the rest of the mourners. Between Principal Wells and Max, the officiant and half a dozen classmates all marched in a loose formation past the rolling hills of tombstones in their dismal formal clothes.

It was too real.

It was too _much._

It was her fucking fault.

What right did she have to even _be_ here?

Everyone paused as Joyce collapsed into David’s arms again, her sobbing the only sound anyone could hear besides a gentle breeze through leaves of trees scattered among the headstones.

Max looked down at her own shaking hands as the static in her head returned, gradually growing closer to the familiar and terrifying white noise that had overwhelmed her at least twice before.

This time, she focused, trying to remember what it felt like to let go.

_I can’t have a breakdown here… Joyce would never forgive me!_

_Maybe… maybe if I can control it…_

She tried to tune out every physical sensation- the seams on her dress, the breeze against her arms, the blisters on her feet. None of that mattered. Instead, she concentrated on the memory of drifting outside her body, floating high above the police station and the Blackwell quadrangle.

As she started to envision herself looking down from the loftiest branches of the cemetery trees, she felt the noise and the static and the aches and every heavy, gripping emotion fall away. She drifted onto the nearest treetop, far enough from the gathered mourners to successfully prevent any incidents or episodes.

Far enough to prevent _visible_ ones, anyway.

She was outside herself, and no one was the wiser.

Down below, her body was still going through the motions. There she stood, between Joyce and Warren, looking down at the casket suspended above the six-foot hole it would soon call home. The headstone of the Price family plot now bore both William’s name, and Chloe’s. An artificial green covering had been spread over the plot and the surrounding ground, but it in its attempt to imitate grass, it only called _more_ attention to the patch of upturned dirt it was meant to hide.

_You can’t make death look… pleasant._

_Why try to smooth its edges?_

_She’s gone. She’s… she’s never coming back._

_There’s no hiding that…_

“We are gathered here today,” she heard the officiant begin, pulling her out of her troubling thoughts and into the equally depressing ritual unfolding below her.

Down at ground level, the freckled young woman in the black dress had tears running down her cheeks. It was a bizarre experience, watching herself struggling to keep it together and awkwardly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

_Why didn’t I bring a tissue, or something? What’s the point of remembering the handbag, if you forget to put a single useful thing in it, Max?_

_Ugh, I look so… so broken…_

If she’d been able to feel anything from up there, it would have been devastating to see the grief-stricken mother standing next to her. Joyce’s hair was disheveled, her arms clung to her husband for dear life, and her reddened eyes overflowed with helpless, mournful, seemingly endless tears.

_I did this to her. Me. It should’ve been me in that bathroom, me in that… in that casket…_

The pain of those thoughts didn’t hit her, not yet.

She was floating.

Watching it all from a safe, detached vantage point.

But deep inside she knew she hadn’t escaped the hurt, grief, anger and guilt by leaving her body. She’d only _delayed_ it.

She’d barely noticed that the officiant stopped talking, leaving them all standing in silence. Warren, Kate, and Joyce all looked despondent and lost in thought, gazing at the casket. David stood straight up, face forward, unblinking eyes staring somewhere beyond the horizon. Principal Wells simply looked down at his shoes, periodically rubbing his head and grimacing.

Dana seemed especially troubled, alternately avoiding everyone’s eyes – especially those of Max and Joyce – and covering her face through several crying spells. Victoria stood back from the group and looked to the ground, while Justin and Trevor stared off into the distance, eyelids barely open, apparently blazed.

 _Stoned at the cemetery? …_ _there’s at least one part of this_ _Chloe_ _actually_ _would’ve approved._

_If anything, she’d wish she would’ve thought of it first…_

Max saw the final, most casually-dressed mourner watching from behind a tree about twenty yards away. The sun reflected brightly off the switchblade hanging from a cord around Frank’s neck, distracting from his glassy eyes and slack-jawed expression of stunned resignation. As he absently reached to pet Pompidou’s head, he missed several times, transfixed by the burial rites of the brash young blue-haired punk.

 _I guess he doesn’t want to draw attention… wonder what that’s_ _like,_ _staying_ _hidden just to pay your respects?_

Though she could imagine this was hardly Frank’s first time at the cemetery, he seemed genuinely shaken up.

Max would have preferred to remain outside her body, observing each of them from her current elevation until everyone dispersed and returned to their cars. Yet, when a blue butterfly alighted on the casket, it set events into motion that brought her back down to earth.

Standing far to Max’s left, Kate stirred as the tiny winged creature landed, peering intently at the insect and nodding her head affirmatively every few seconds.

No one else seemed to notice, each person forging through the lengthy moment of silence in their own way with reflection, distraction, or – in David’s case – a thousand-yard stare.

But watching the scene unfold between Kate and the butterfly gave Max the _perfect_ distraction, causing her deductive gears to turn.

_I saw that butterfly in the bathroom – I knew there was something magical about it!_

_Now Kate is listening to it like it was an old friend._

_Yesterday, Stella told me that Kate was “having a long talk with her bunny,” Alice…_

_And three days ago, Dana told me she has powers._

_What if…?_

_No._

_No way._

_Kate… Kate can understand animals?_

_Our very own squirrel-bunny-butterfly whisperer?_

_No way. That’s…_ totally _out there, even to me._

_But if it’s true… I hope they make her feel less alone…_

The thought brought a reluctant but genuinely hopeful smile to Max’s face.

While Max put the pieces together, Kate quietly walked towards her and met her gaze. Behind ocean blue and hazel alike, their eyes had been tinted pinkish red from crying.

As Kate opened her arms, offering Max a hug, the freckled, bereaved girl in the black dress finished drifting back into her own body and leaned into the embrace. Moments later, Dana was also by her side, joining in on the hug after a series of subtle nods.

Max was especially grateful for the support, because the protective shell of numbness that had carried her through much of the week was dangerously close to dissolving completely. She could feel _more_ of her sensations now, from the cool breeze, to the sun on her face and arms, to those damn blisters on her feet. And she could feel _more_ of her emotions, too, as she wept profusely, enveloped in her friends’ loving arms.

After they each placed a flower on the casket, their small group began to leave the site of Chloe’s grave. Max was among the last to go, pulling Joyce in for another hug and promising to stay in touch before leaving her and David alone to say their goodbyes.

Max couldn’t bear to think of this as farewell.

She would be back here, for one thing. Max had already promised herself she would visit Chloe and William, regularly, starting just next weekend.

She had her Polaroids, her memories, and her vow to _never_ forget her beloved Partner-in-Time.

To always love her.

Forever.

Of course, none of it would heal the pain of losing Chloe, or make any of this okay. Max had no illusions about that! But as she left the cemetery and climbed back into her dad’s car, walking away didn’t feel like _walking away_.

 _I promise – I will_ never _let myself leave you behind again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Also: I'm sorry.
> 
> Writing this chapter had me digging deep into some of the hardest (for me) moments of the game, as well as memories related to personal losses. Cathartic... and, probably the most difficult chapter/etc I've written yet. I've tried to give Max room to be real and human and flawed in the face of loss - to feel, think, and react in complex ways that may not fit narrow/unrealistic expectations on how she "should" mourn. I hope despite the heaviness, you found something useful or relateable here.
> 
> Chapter 6 will be hopefully be posted by the time you read this. I chose tor release these chapters together, because CH6 ends on a far more positive/hopeful note than CH5, and I hope this'll help at least a little.
> 
> Take good care, all <3  
> Glitter


	6. Choir of Furies, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE (5/8/19): Both Chapter 5 and Chapter 6 are being posted on the same day. I strongly recommend reading Chapter 5, before starting this chapter.
> 
> Solstice Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2OVeQFH  
> Content warnings: talk of death/murder, alcohol, drug use, strong language

**Song: Eduard Frolov EFG –** [ **Carry On** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QEtyqdTUDM)

* * *

“You want us to drop you off _here_?” Vanessa said as they rolled to a stop at the end of the beachside parking lot, sending a small group of seagulls scurrying and flapping away. “Maxine, I know today has been hard on you, on _all_ of us, and I’m not trying to upset you. But I just don’t see how-”

“It’s OK,” Max replied, her voice simply drained. As the Caulfields all stepped out of the car and stretched their legs, she pulled on her shawl and tried to explain, “My friends are coming. They invited me to this, um, get-together up by the lighthouse. You know, share stories about Chloe, just ‘be together,’ or whatever…”

“Oh, pumpkin, that… well, that sounds like a great idea,” her dad said, glancing out over the ocean and briefly taking in the view as he walked around to the passenger side, “You shouldn’t have to be alone on a day like this. But… you _sure_ you don’t want us to stay until they get here? And are you feeling up to that hike? You seem tired, kiddo.”

Vanessa nodded emphatically at the word “tired,” her well-worn frown lines showing as she waited for her daughter’s response.

“We always loved the beach,” Max replied wistfully, following her dad’s gaze, “Hearing the waves, feeling the sand under our feet, running around on our little pirate adventures… being here together made us feel like everything was possible.”

She allowed her parents’ confused, patient staring to continue for a long moment before she went on. “It’s not that far, I’ll be fine. It’s mostly Blackwell students, too, so someone will give me a ride back tonight. You should get back on the road. Long trip, ‘n all.”

Vanessa stepped away from the passenger side door, standing directly between Max and the waterfront, effectively blocking her view as she said, “Sweetie, I just- after everything you’ve been through… I _know_ you said you want to stay in school, but if you’d just _consider_ coming home a little while longer-”

Crossing her bare arms, Max uttered a dismissive _hmph_ before replying, “I’m not changing my mind.”

Seeing the wounded look in both parents’ eyes, she sighed and softly added, “Look, I know you’re _trying…_ I don’t want to argue. But I need to be with her. Do you understand? I need to stay in Arcadia Bay, because this is where we grew up, and it’s where… where they buried her…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” her dad said, wrapping his arms around Max and gesturing for his wife to join them in a somewhat uncomfortable and mercifully short-lived group hug.

“Would you want us to move back here, then?” he continued as they separated, drawing a skeptical look from his wife, “It would be a challenge, sure, and I know the whole Pan Estates project is driving costs up… but maybe if we-”

“Dad! _Now_ you want to stay?” Max said, stepping back and raising her voice as she interrupted him with an incredulous, resentful tone, “If you can just drop everything now, why not five years ago? Why’d we move to Seattle _at all_? Maybe after William _died_ , if you hadn’t _ripped me and Chloe apart_ , maybe she’d still be- m-maybe...”

Her voice began to trail off as the evening sun’s reflection on the water caught her eye. The sight reminded her of that first day Chloe came back into her life, and the surreal beauty of the unseasonal snowfall just before sunset.

She took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks and blowing the air out forcefully.

Her flash of fury rapidly dissolved back into a distant, aching grief as her mind focused in on the fact that her best friend wasn’t coming back.

“Maxine-” Vanessa began, before Ryan met her eyes and subtly shook his head, taking a cautious step towards his daughter.

“Sweetie, I- we didn’t realize-,” he said patiently, shifting his gaze to Max with a concerned, apologetic look, “The point is, we want to be here for you _now…”_

“I’m sorry, Pop… I keep blowing up at you about that. Today is just…,” she said as she turned towards him, gathering up her resolve before adding, “But… _no_ , you don’t need to move back. I’ll be fine. I have my friends, and Dr. Hank said those prescriptions might help me. I’m seeing Ms. Hilde on Monday, too-”

“And you’ll let us know _the moment_ you need anything?” Vanessa pointedly asked.

“Yes,” Max said with an impatient sigh.

“And you’ll take _extra_ good care of that camera Joyce gave you?”

“Ugh, _yes,_ ” she tersely replied, meeting her mother’s eyes and deterring further questions with her determined, unblinking stare.

“Then it’s settled,” her dad said, pulling Max in for another hug before returning to the driver’s side and opening the car door, “And we’ll let _you_ know when we make it down the final stretch tonight. Love you, pumpkin. Take care.”

They exchanged a few more “Love you”s before the black Prius turned around and pulled away, leaving a cloud of sandy dust in its wake.

As the hum of the motor and sound of rolling tires faded into the distance, she removed her shoes – _finally!_ – and dangled them from her fingers. As she crossed from the parking lot to the beach, she stood curling her toes into the sand for a moment before resuming her walk. Soon, she could hear only the waves steadily lapping against the shore, the occasional squawk of seagulls, and the rustle of wind through the nearby forest canopy.

Max was alone.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d walked along Arcadia Bay’s shoreline by herself.

She was always here with Chloe.

Her best friend had encouraged her to turn her budding middle school photographer’s eye towards the beauty hiding around every corner of their hometown: the stunning sunsets, brilliant autumn colors, and shifting shadows cast over the sand.

On one particularly momentous afternoon back in 2007, 13-year-old Chloe had returned from the restroom building to find her taking her first selfie out here. Max had spent a long time debating with herself over whether it was a waste of film and whether she could even bear to _look_ at any photo she might take.

Lost in those self-conscious ruminations, she hadn’t even noticed her tall, smiling friend approach her.

As much as she liked to tease and joke around, Chloe seemed to realize how uncertain and _small_ Max felt in that moment. Instead of cracking wise, she wrapped an arm around her best friend’s shoulders, telling her what an amazing shot it was.

“ _Keep it up, Max-i-mus!”_ she’d said in a sing-song voice, her eyes brimming with pride and excitement, _“I’m just mad I didn’t think of this first! What’s even_ better _than seeing the world through_ _my best friend’s_ _super talented eyes? A kickass photo of you IN the world! Of course!”_

The youthful voice faded back into memory.

Max didn’t even bother wiping the tears away as she kept walking along the beach in a daze.

Making her way along the sandy shore, a series of fond memories from throughout their childhood and That Week played in Max’s mind, like a continuous reel of home movies. As the film came to its end, she once again heard the courageous blue-haired punk’s voice echoing from another timeline:

“ _Wherever I end up after this... in whatever reality... all those moments between us were real, and they'll always be ours.”_

Shaking her head with a doubtful sigh, she tried to let the voice drift away.

Those moments _were_ real, she knew, but they weren’t _enough_. They could never make up for what she’d done. She inwardly kicked herself for indulging a trip down memory lane _now_ , when some little corner of her heart was _still_ hiding from the pain of losing her.

Chloe had been brave enough to face what she thought was her destiny, to offer her own life to save everyone – especially Joyce. Even if she was probably wrong about the destiny thing, she was willing to face oblivion selflessly… and no one else would even know, even remember, her sacrifice!

Yet Max couldn’t even face her own emotional clusterfuck… not all-the-way.

She couldn’t just keep floating to the sky whenever the regrets and memories that haunted her came knocking… right?

_Well…_

Without realizing it, she’d traversed the entire length of the beach, reaching the point where the last stretch of sand met an imposing rockface – the same formation that supported the lighthouse high above her.

 _I miss her… and_ _I can’t just_ move on. _Not now._ _I want to feel it. Just like that Other_ _M_ _e said, I need to feel it… I had a chance to bring her back, and I let her down in the worst_ _possible_ _way…_

 _That should_ hurt _, it should hurt like hell. I deserve to feel_ _all of this_ _…_

_And I’m sick of feeling so empty…_

* * *

_Maybe I wouldn’t have made it through the week without going numb, but, when will it end?_

_I can't take it any more._

Max smelled salt in the air, felt the ocean breeze against her bare arms.

The gentle wind stung her sore cheeks, still wet with tears.

Her reddened eyes were squinting against the sun's glare.

Its golden reflection gleamed brightly off the water's wave-capped surface.

She drew a shuddering breath.

Somewhere by her feet, a key emerged from the sand.

Max plucked it from the ground and shook it off, relieved to find it again.

_Is this the key for…? Looks like it, but I’m not sure…_

Suddenly, the ruins of walls around her heart crumbled to dust.

Her tears flowed freely and her newfound ire simmered below.

The lighthouse towered above.

The tide rolled in, soaking her bare feet.

Distantly, she heard someone calling to her.

From behind.

Placing the key in her handbag, she turned to face the stranger’s voice.

* * *

“Hey, you looked a little spaced out,” the young white woman said with a hint of sadness in her voice. As the wind blew wisps of auburn hair out from under a black beanie with a flame logo, she added, “Um, are you OK?”

_She seems… kind of familiar? I think? Where have I seen her before?_

Max met her blue eyes for a moment before looking away, warmth spreading through her cheeks despite the gradually dropping temperature. Realizing that she was no longer alone, a softhearted and oddly hopeful flash of emotion stirred within her.

It felt _wrong_.

_I have no right to feel hope, after what I did…_

Pushing aside whatever that conflicted feeling was, Max glanced at the stranger’s black hoodie, jeans, and dragon necklace. Words refused to come easily, and she wasn’t even sure how long she’d been standing at that spot before this woman approached – only that sunset was much closer than she’d assumed, and her eyes stung terribly from the latest deluge of tears.

“I… um, I, yeah,” she stammered, “Thanks.”

“Good. Just checking, you know?” The stranger also seemed to have the slightest pink hue in her cheeks as she added in a casual, sympathetic tone, “You here for the memorial thing?”

Max simply nodded, taking a couple steps away from the water.

“How’d you know?”

“Saw you at the service,” she responded as Max came near, gesturing for them to walk together towards a nearby bench, “A ton of people probably told you this, but still: I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Max said, taking a seat and placing her shoes on the ground nearby.

For a long moment, she watched the sun dip closer to the watery horizon and wiped her eyes, embarrassed to find her cheeks had been a drenched mess throughout their strange, halting conversation. Finally looking up, she nodded to her mysterious and still-standing companion, who offered a small, grateful smile as she finally sat on the bench.

“I’m Steph, by the way.”

“Max,” she replied, “Um, nice to meet you.”

“Max Caulfield?” she asked. Max’s eyes to widened and her head tilted in surprise as she nodded.

“When I was still at Blackwell,” Steph explained, “Chloe talked about you sometimes during our D&D campaigns. She could be… kinda bitter. But she _did_ say your elf druid saved her ass more than once.”

A halfhearted chuckle escaped her lips.

It, too, felt _wrong_.

_She’s gone… I couldn’t “save her ass” when she needed me._

“She’s my best friend. We went on some seriously epic adventures together,” Max said, her eyes fixed on the sea and the evening sun’s golden rays reflecting off its choppy surface, “and she saved my ass, too. So many times. But I don’t think she knew…”

Seeing the serious, downhearted expression on Steph’s face, Max added, “She always teased me for being ‘retro,’ because I take a lot of Polaroids. But she’s the one who refused to even _try_ an MMO.”

“That sounds like Chloe,” Steph replied with a knowing nod, “Pen-and-paper or GTFO.”

The comment brought a confusing mix of fondness and despair as she pictured her stubborn, stealth-dork of a best friend shaking her head “no,” glaring comically with those sapphire blue eyes. The image was bittersweet – caught somewhere between absence, longing, and reminiscence – but Max was grateful that she could finally _feel_.

Her gratitude was slightly tempered when she began putting her shoes back on, fully _feeling_ the sharp sting from her feet rubbing against her painfully uncomfortable footwear.

Fortunately, continuing her discussion with Steph provided a welcome and effective distraction.

As they continued talking, eventually getting up to begin their trek up the path to the lighthouse, Max actually experienced a few rare moments of relief and solace. She wasn’t sure whether it was simply talking to someone who’d known Chloe and thought well of her, or the implicit freedom she felt to share dorkier memories and interests, but something about their conversation put the freckled hipster-geek at ease.

Even the times she had to stop walking, tears once again trickling down her cheeks in sorrowful rivulets, it somehow felt OK. Steph simply wasn’t a jerk about Max’s complicated emotional state, the way it shifted, or the way she expressed it.

_Maybe I don’t deserve a sympathetic ear, but… can I just be glad she’s here?_

_Is this the way Chloe would want us to remember her – sharing stories, crying together?_

Steph also opened up as they made their slow climb, telling Max about her time at Blackwell, her move to Portland, her first few weeks of college and her work as a stage manager and freelance artist. Despite their heavy hearts, the words flowed easily between them as the sky above grew slowly darker.

When conversation shifted back to Blackwell, Steph also talked about her deep regrets over losing touch with friends from Arcadia Bay, an experience they commiserated over. It turned out she had been closer with Rachel than Chloe, but she was friends with both. News of their passing had been, as she put it, a “critical hit” that left her still reeling.

As they approached the top of the hill, the buzz of indistinct conversations and the column of smoke rising from a soft orange glow announced the “memorial thing” long before they saw the rest of the group.

_That flame’s… awfully close to the lighthouse. I hope they know what they’re doing…_

Even as the thought passed, Max realized that it wasn’t really the fire pit that made her suddenly feel so uneasy. Not counting dreams and nightmares, she hadn’t been to the lighthouse since that final photojump.

“Heyyy, Steph’s here!” Justin shouted, interrupting Max’s thoughts as they came into view of the clifftop gathering. He looked less stoned than he’d been that afternoon, and had changed from his funeral clothes to a baggy black monochrome version of his typical skater gear. “…and is that? Hey, Max is with her!”

Steph gave a confident wave and chin-nod, while Max hesitantly said “hey” back, holding her arm with her opposite hand.

 _Wowser! There’s almost a dozen people up here… Dana said it’d be a_ small _group! I wish Justin hadn’t seen me, so I could still back out…_

“Looks like we made it,” Steph said to her, turning to look her in the eye, “Let’s talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied, anxiously squeezing her own arm and struggling not to let her voice waver too noticeably, “Um, thanks for… for checking on me, before. I’m, uh, glad we talked.”

“Me too, Max.”

* * *

“ _no one's ever lost forever_  
_when they die they go away_  
_but they will visit_  
_you occasionally  
__do not be afraid_

 _no one's ever lost forever_  
_they are caught_  
_inside your heart_  
_if you garden them_  
_and water them_  
_they make you what you are”_  
  
**Amanda Palmer –**[ **Lost**](https://youtu.be/JSzN0vq6kcU)

* * *

As Steph approached the group by the crackling fire, Dana and Juliet walked over to greet her, clad in matching low-cut, long-sleeved black tops. Max noticed that Steph seemed taken aback by their friendly hugs, but quickly recovered in a chorus of relieved long-time-no-sees and solemn don’t-know-what-to-says.

Meanwhile, Trevor urgently called Justin to help move the cooler, leaving Max gratefully free from anyone noticing her just yet.

She needed some time to herself, anyway.

_It’s so weird being back up here…_

Her mind returned to the path it had wandered along before Justin’s interruption. She’d last seen the area around the lighthouse in a dream of a memory: reliving the moment she’d first told Chloe about her powers. Before that, they’d been here together during the Storm, finally sharing that last doomed kiss, and her vow to never forget…

 _Who decided we should come_ here? _They picked the_ worst _possible place to honor her memory… They could’ve_ asked _me or something…_

Max’s jaw tightened and she felt an urge to keep looking over her shoulder for a danger that wasn’t there. She wasn’t sure why this vague, irksome feeling came over her – only that she needed to distract herself from it.

Directly ahead, the scene matched Max’s image of a typical weekend “party” in Arcadia Bay: a fire, a circle of people seated on mismatched chairs and large logs, a cooler full of presumably alcoholic drinks, and someone playing music off their phone.

Not that she’d know, of course. She’d only heard others’ tales of drama and debauchery, never been invited herself. Being around this many people typically launched her anxiety levels into the stratosphere. And that’s not even counting how she stood out: while everyone else wore casual black jackets and hoodies, she was the only one still “dressed up.”

Tonight’s gathering was _slightly_ less intimidating, though, because the music was closer to a dirge than a party anthem, and everyone looked a bit drained. She recognized almost all of them: Luke, Evan, Stella, an unfamiliar green-haired punk and a skinny guy with thick-rimmed glasses rounded out the group.

Thankfully, Stella and the strangers were focused on talking among themselves. Sitting together on one of the large logs, Evan comforted Luke, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder as they both gazed into the fire with grave expressions.

Max took this moment of undisturbed reflection to walk off towards a familiar tree stump. Standing before it, she quietly read the carving:

[Max + Chloe]  
[BFF Pirates]  
[2008]

“Chloe…”

Max instinctively grazed her fingers against the spiked bracelet on her wrist, closing her eyes tight and turning her head to the side. She struggled to remain standing and control her breathing as deep, aching regret and smoldering indignation pulled painfully at the center of her chest.

_It’s just not fair. You deserved so much better…_

_No one here even knows. Not even Dana, not really._

_I never lived up to what you thought of me… A real pirate_ always _protects her captain, no exceptions. And a real “BFF” would’_ _v_ _e picked up the phone_ _,_ _would’ve done_ anything _to save you, would’ve taken the bullet herself if she had to…_

“Hey, Max?” Stella said, walking up to her from the right, “You OK? …sorry, you don’t have to answer that. Just, been thinking of you. Is there anything I can do?”

“Stella?” Max said, opening her eyes, turning to face her friend, and bluntly adding, “Um, I didn’t think you knew Chloe or Rachel?”

“No, not really. But Lex and their roommate, Steph, both did,” she replied with an embarrassed shrug, her words nervously rushing out as she glanced at the tree stump and tried to explain, “They’re down from Portland and I don’t get to see them much during the school year and I guess I just wanted to support- if that’s OK? If you want me to go, I won’t hold it against y-”

“It’s fine, Stella,” Max said with a sigh, “Please, stay. I’m sorry for being so rude… It’s just been a hard day, you know?”

“Don’t even worry about it,” she replied, raising her eyebrow with an is-this-OK? expression and waiting for a nod from Max before gently touching her upper arm, “We’re here for you.”

Max suddenly noticed that the green-haired punk was approaching in slow, self-assured steps. Wearing ripped jeans, a black leather jacket, and a black T-shirt with a double-bitted axe logo, their few inches of neon green hair were tousled and shaped into an “intentional bedhead” look. With their subtly wide jaw, brown skin, and round face, they closely resembled Stella. Yet the punk clearly had their own style and appeared about a foot taller, a few years older, and more confident than Max’s classmate.

 _Whoever you are, you remind me so much of_ _Chloe_ _… I wonder how you knew her?_

“Hey, sis? Don’t mean to interrupt,” the stranger said to Stella, stopping in front of her and Max. “Justin sent me to ask what you’re drinkin’. Says we’re about to get started.” Looking distractedly to Chloe’s carving on the tree stump, then to the bracelets adorning Max’s wrists, they added, “Right, hi. I’m Lex.”

“Max. Um, n-nice to meet you,” she said.

“Sorry for your loss, Max,” Lex replied as Stella peered over at the young man with the patchy blonde goatee removing bottles from an opened cooler. “Chloe told us about you. Good things, don’t worry. Used to joke about bringing you into the shop someday.”

“Lex works at the Black Labrys, in Portland,” Stella said, noting the inquisitive glint in Max’s still-reddened eyes, “That’s where Chloe and Rachel got their tattoos.”

“ _You_ did her sleeve? It’s… it was a-amazing,” Max said, the words catching in her throat as the mental image of her best friend brought another wave of heart-twisting grief and stinging shame. She stared down at her shoes for a few moments before meeting Lex’s eyes again.

“Me? No, I’m a part-time apprentice now, but back then I just worked the front desk,” they replied, glancing over their shoulder to the fire pit before continuing, “Chloe drew the design, one of the co-owners inked her up.”

 _I can’t believe I never even asked her about it. I didn’t even know it was_ her _design…_

As Max nodded blankly, Stella addressed her sibling. “I thought I saw a couple bottles of The Dissident? If not, any beer’s fine, I guess.”

“You got it, sis. Max, you want anything?”

_Shit… two nights in a row? I’ve never done that before… and everyone will see me drinking._

_I’m sure the rumor mill will_ love _that._

She swallowed hard, glancing over to the cooler, and back to Lex a few times.

Stalling.

_But if I say “no” everyone will notice that, too._

_Maybe it’ll get me through what’s left of this_ _terrible_ _day? And who could blame me, right?_

… _plus, I hate to say it, but last night kind of helped?_

“Um, yeah. That’s really nice of you. Just some cider?”

Her eyebrows raised, Stella said, “Max, you sure? I didn’t know you- I mean, you _do_ know there’s alcohol in-”

“ _Yes_ , Stella,” she replied, trying to force a casual tone, “I know what hard cider is.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean anything by it. We’re all-”

“It’s OK, really.”

When Lex returned with the drinks, two others walked over with them: Steph and the thin, bespectacled Black guy who’d been sitting with her. With his closely trimmed chinbeard and ironed, tucked-in black button-up, he appeared infinitely more clean-cut than the entire male Blackwell population – but Max felt sure she’d never met him before.

“Steph, Mikey, Lex,” Stella called out to the approaching trio, accepting her beer with a satisfied nod, “if you’re all here, who’s holding our seats?”

“Mikey?” Max said, her entire body relaxing as she closed one hand around the neck of the cider bottle, “As in, Mikey North? Drew’s little brother?”

With a groan, he replied, “Yeah, ‘Drew’s little brother.’ I kinda transferred to ABHS to get _out_ of his shadow, though. You know him?”

“No, I just… I go to Blackwell. I’m Max. It’s, um… I wish we could’ve met at a better time.”

“Max Caulfield?” he asked, glancing down at the carving on the tree stump, then to the spiked bracelet Max was wearing, before adding in a somber tone, “Don’t know what to say about all this. Your friend, and her character, Callamastia, were the bravest adventurers and truest companions I’ve ever journeyed with. Their untimely loss will echo through the ages.”

An uneasy quiet fell over the group as bits of overheard conversation drifted over from the fire pit, and Max tried to find something passably appropriate to say.

“She was… um, is. I mean, thanks.”

Just as Max finished speaking, Justin called everyone to gather around the fire. While the other four hurried back to their seats, she lingered by the stump for a moment longer before shuffling off towards the group.

* * *

Gazing into the crackling flame, Max shifted in her seat as she waited for… whatever Justin planned to say. The group’s stragglers gradually grabbed drinks from the cooler and took their seats on mismatched lawn chairs and large round logs. She was sitting between Steph’s lawnchair, and Luke-and-Evan’s log. Though Luke assured her they weren’t in danger from stray sparks, it would take her half the evening – and several drinks – to truly stop worrying about the potential fire hazard.

Part of her wanted to suggest just finding more chairs, or using boulders, or _something_ safer… but if everyone else thought it’d be fine, who was she to say otherwise?

After accepting a bottle opener from Steph, attempting to use it, then allowing her to help with popping the cap off, Max took a few sips of the hard cider. Although the sight of her drinking elicited concerned glances from Dana and Luke, it at least gave her something to do with her hands as she waited for whatever-this-was to get started.

Trying to relax, Max turned to her left and distracted herself by listening to Evan, Dana, and Juliet quietly talking while Luke added bits of wood to the fire.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Juliet said to Evan, raising an eyebrow and tapping her finger curiously against her chin, “Didn’t you say Rachel modeled for you?”

“She did,” he replied, tucking the loose end of his black scarf over his shoulder, “And she was a dear friend… which is why I’m absolutely aghast that Blackwell insists on honoring her murderers with plaques and exhibitions. Yesterday’s assembly only made me want to fight harder, and keep pushing with my petition.”

“That Wells thing yesterday?” Dana said, “I can’t _believe_ his idea of ‘prevention’ is telling girls to walk around in pairs, watch our drinks, and stay in at night. Such BS!”

Max nearly dropped the bottle of cider when she heard these details about the school assembly.

 _That’s what he would’ve said to Kate? ...and Rachel, and Chloe, and_ me _? How about not hiring creeps or helping rich dudes hide their sons’ problems?_

Part of her longed to say some of this to her friends… but she knew it would raise questions she couldn’t answer.

She didn’t speak.

“He came into the newspaper office,” Juliet replied, shaking her head, “and tried to _demand_ we stop covering Evan’s petition. Pretty much everyone on staff is getting Vortex Club pressure over the petition, too. Zach even tried to talk _me_ out of writing about it. Since when does _anyone_ care what we print?”

A disapproving hum rose from Evan’s direction when Juliet mentioned Zach, to which Max quietly nodded her agreement. _He was being such a bully this week… now he’s pressuring his girlfriend?_

“Just one more reason I need to get _out_ of the Vortex,” Dana said with a sigh, gesturing broadly to the fire and the entire gathering, “they didn’t want me to show up for _this_ , either. Like all the sudden they’re disavowing Rachel, or something? They actually don’t know I’m here…”

As Dana’s voice trailed off, Justin and Trevor once again called the group to attention, and Max shifted her focus to the pair of still-standing skaters.

“Thank you all for coming, my dudes. And, uh, dudettes. I mean, _everyone_ , welcome.” Justin said, pausing to take a hit from a well-packed glass bowl before blowing out the smoke and passing it to Trevor, “Check it: We’re here to raise a toast to our friends, Chloe and Rachel. Two Arcadia Bay _legends_. They were chill, they could _destroy_ the rails, they always had my back and each others’. They were they taken from us wayyy too soon… but for their journey to the big half-pipe in the sky, we’re gonna send ‘em off right.”

Max looked around the circle apprehensively as the fragrant, earthy smell of weed wafted towards her, mixing with the odor of wood burning on the fire.

_Send them off right? What does that mean…?_

_How well did he even_ know _Chloe?_

“What my bro is trying to say,” Trevor added, passing the bowl to Stella, “is we wanna tell some kickass stories! And hear yours! Got a funny tale about Chloe telling off some asshat, or Rachel reciting Shakespeare while baked out of her skull? Wanna give props for the best graffiti in town, or tell the nicest thing they ever did for you? That’s what we’re here for…”

Their collective eyes remained fixed on Trevor through a drawn-out moment of anticipation.

“…and to get wasted, of course!” he added, raising his bottle, “To Chloe and Rachel!”

“To Chloe and Rachel,” all ten of them replied, downing sips and glugs of their chosen drinks. As Stella blew a few smoke rings, Max took a second sip of her cider, noting with relief that Mikey, Luke, and Dana each had bottles of soda.

“What the hell, I’ll go first,” Lex said, taking a hit and passing the bowl to Steph before adding, "If you don't know me yet, the name's Lex Hill. I met our dynamic duo when they came to Portland for their tattoos. Chloe was acting tough the first time, but they both looked like they’d never seen a queer safe space _or_ a tattoo parlor before.”

When the bowl landed in Max’s hands, she quickly passed it on without taking a hit. The idea of smoking _anything_ had never appealed to her, and if she was ever going to get high, it would’ve been with Chloe. Now… she barely had to think before sending the bowl on its way.

At Stella’s urging, Lex stood up as they continued their story.

“They told me about the personal, kick-ass meanings behind their tatts. Kept us all laughing, too,” they said, flashing an amused grin as they shared, “This one time, Chloe got us to play a song Rachel _hated_ over the shop stereo, before turning around and giving her a legit mix CD. They were _always_ messing around!”

The punk’s smile faded as they added, “We kept in touch, and I saw them whenever I visited Stella at school. Wish we’d had more time… but their spirits were _fierce_ , you know? Like they wanted to cling to life with both hands. I’ll really miss ‘em.”

Several affirmative hums rose from around the circle as Luke passed Max a small metal flask. Immediately recognizing it as whiskey from the smell, she braced herself and took a giant swig before passing it to Steph.

_Might as well go down swigging, I guess._

_Chloe would’ve rolled her eyes_ hard _at that one…_

After the unpleasant aftertaste passed, a comforting wave of warmth followed, spreading throughout Max’s body as it went. Relieved, she leaned back in her chair, welcoming the whiskey’s consoling embrace as she listened and sipped her cider.

“OK,” Steph said, lifting the flask to her lips and turning to look at Lex as they sat back down on the log they shared with their sister, “I have to ask. What was the song?”

Lex closed their eyes for a moment, nodding their head, strumming air guitar, and silently mouthing lyrics until the answer came to them.

“‘[I Love Playing With Fire](https://youtu.be/rBaXDuVYwQ8),’” they replied, “Joan Jett, I think? Dunno what she had against it, but Rachel _flipped_ before the guitars even came in.”

“Yeahhh, I think I know what that’s about,” Steph said, shaking her head, “But we’re not here to roast our friends, right?”

Max’s lips twisted into a guilty smirk when she heard the fiery pun, briefly meeting Steph’s eyes with an appreciative nod. Scattered, uncertain tittering spread around the circle as Steph passed the flask to Mikey, who passed it on to Lex without drinking from it. As a chilly breeze blew in from the ocean below, everyone inched closer to the flame, and Justin tossed bits of wood in.

“ _Instead_ , I want to tell you about Callamastia – Chloe’s D&D character,” Steph continued, rising from her chair as the fire cast its orange-red glow onto her face, “She was brash and aggressive, tried to intimidate her enemies, rushed into battle with an outsized sense of her own strength… stop me if this sounds familiar?”

A few _mm-hmm!_ s and knowing glances were exchanged among the group.

_OK, yes… but there was so much more to her!_

_I thought_ _Steph said_ _they were friends? Where is she going with this…?_

“Elamon once prejudged Callamastia in those same terms-” Mikey said hesitantly, stopping mid-sentence with a crestfallen look in his eyes as his friend and DM shook her head and gestured for him to wait.

“...but Callamastia will _also_ be remembered as a lionhearted hero,” Steph said, drawing a sigh of relief from Mikey, “fiercely loyal to her friends, and willing to sacrifice everything she had if it would save companions, innocents, or both,” she quickly added as the group quieted down and listened with rapt attention, “And Chloe did the same.”

Steph’s words caught Max off-guard. Her face fell, her hands balled into fists, and her eyes clamped shut as she tried to count out slow breaths.

 _She wasn’t just_ willing _to sacrifice herself… she_ did. _And I let her._

_If I can’t take it all back, her story at least deserves to be told. I guess Dana knows- still, every one of you should hear it! But… where would I even begin…?_

Opening her eyes, Max gulped down what was left of her cider, and walked over to the cooler to grab another bottle as Steph finished her story.

“At different times,” she said, staring into the fire with a mix of sadness and admiration in her eyes, “her and Rachel each faced down Damon Merrick, this scary, _armed,_ real-life boss monster."

As Max walked past Mikey on her way back to her chair, she noticed him visibly shudder at hearing Damon's name. Before Max could ask, he turned away, taking a sip of his soda while Steph finished speaking.

"It was _beyond_ reckless, but. Point is. They were each as brave as any barbarian, and I was - I _am_ - proud to know them.”

Steph returned to her seat around the same time as Max, once again wielding her bottle opener as Luke stood up to contribute his own memory to the mix:

“Chloe was fearless,” he began, removing his black snapback to wipe sweat from his brow before placing it back on his head, “Wouldn’t take _any_ shit, either. One day last winter, we’re walking downtown, bundled up, and some drunk bro stumbles out of the bar. He looks her up and down, and says in this super aggro voice, ‘What the fuck _are_ you?’

“I’m about to piss my pants, ‘cause this guy’s got a hundred pounds on me, easy,” Luke said, curling his lips in disgust at the memory. Offering his best Chloe Price impression at the appropriate moment, he went on, “But she just stares him down and goes, ‘I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be, and more of a woman than you’ll ever get! Now get the _fuck_ out of our way!’ Guy _runs_ back into the bar, looking like he’s gonna cry!”

The others roared with laughter and Max reluctantly chuckled as Evan handed the flask to her, passing over Luke’s empty spot on the log. This time, she took two quick gulps before passing it along to Steph.

“The only thing about that story that surprises _me_ ,” Dana chimed in as the laughter died down, “Is that I never imagined Chloe as a Renthead. Rachel must have dragged her to a production, or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Luke, you’ve _never_ seen Rent?” Dana replied incredulously, shaking her head and explaining, “...OK, that ‘more of a man’ line? It’s a quote from Angel.”

“Angel?” Max said softly, turning to her and brushing her fingers against her own doe necklace.

“ _Et_ _tu_ , Max?” Dana said with feigned disappointment, “The character who says that line, her name is Angel.”

“It was Mimi _quoting_ Angel,” Juliet softly interjected, “and it’s a really touching scene.”

“Yeah,” Steph said, wiping a tear from her eye, “she says that at Angel’s memorial service, actually…”

Dana, Juliet, and Steph each exchanged glances as a doleful silence fell over the group.

Luke sat back down next to Evan, struggling to hold back tears and resting his head against Evan’s shoulder. Seeing the sorrowful expression on Luke’s face, Max recalled a moment from their conversation earlier that week:

“ _D-Did you know her?”_

“ _Not like you did, but I still miss her.”_

It was… weird, being here, hearing about parts of her best friend’s life that Chloe never had the chance to share with her.

The more she thought about it, the more unnerving it was.

_Not sure how many more of these stories I can take, when I still can’t tell one from That Week…_

_If_ _Lex, and Luke, and the rest of them_ _were Chloe's friends- why did she_ _still_ _feel so alone? Where were they when she needed them?_

 _Ugh… like_ I _should talk. Much irony. Very hypocrite. Wow._

Max took a few more sips of her cider, which seemed to wash away her roiling resentment. For now. She looked just above the fire, which seemed to be dying down, watching its occasional licks of flame leap against the night sky. They left little trails of orange across her visual field, signaling that Max _might_ be getting a little tipsy.

When Dana stood up and mercifully broke the silence, Max lowered her gaze and focused on listening to her story.

“I met Rachel through Drama Club. When I first heard about tonight,” she said, shooting a quick, conflicted glance in Trevor’s direction, “I had all these wild stories in mind about cast parties and out-of-town trips. She was _always_ the life of the party! But most of us already knew that, right?”

Several people around the circle nodded, and a few chuckled fondly.

“The Rachel I knew, the one I’ll _always_ remember, was also a great friend,” she continued, a grateful smile spreading across her lips as she gracefully brushed tears from her cheeks, “When I was nervous about trying out, she was like ‘Go for it! You got this.’ Even when we were up for the same roles! And she was always like, ‘hey let me introduce you to this agent’ or ‘that choreographer.’ I’m not saying she was perfect- but neither am I. Just… she really helped me out, and I miss her.”

_Oh, Dana…_

Max thought back to her friend’s scrapbook, and the way she’d cried when she first heard the grim news of Rachel’s demise. _This would already be so hard without your powers. With them, I can’t even imagine…_

Juliet rose and walked over to Dana, offering a hug. Sniffling, they continued to hold one another as Evan began speaking.

Clearing his throat, he sat with his arm around Luke’s shoulders, gesturing to the sky with his free hand as he said, “Chloe wasn’t perfect, either. But to me, she will always be a singularity, a bolide boldly burning her own unique path across the heavens.”

_That’s… kind of poetic, I think? But Chloe never even mentioned Evan… how well did he even-_

Max’s attention shifted as she felt a pair of eyes on her, turning to find Steph giving her a concerned, curious look from the next seat over.

“And Rachel,” Evan went on, freeing both hands to remove and wipe his glasses, “She was a masterful muse who truly grasped the intricacies of my artistic perspective and urged me to continue refining my vision. No words can suffice to convey the depth of our loss- no, _Arcadia Bay’s_ loss. We can only endeavor to remember.”

Picking up his dark brown bottle of The Dissident, he tilted it slightly towards the fire and said, “To Rachel and Chloe!”

“To Rachel and Chloe!”

After the impromptu toast, Evan and most of the others sipped their beers and sodas. Dana and Juliet gathered their belongings and walked towards Trevor and Justin. As they conversed, Dana and Trevor exchanged hushed words and tense glances, while the empty flask and bowl each made their way back to Justin.

Steph’s eyes had remained focused on Max. Speaking just loudly enough for her to hear, the black-beanie-clad young woman said, “Hey… no pressure or anything, but did you want to say a few words?”

_I… yes? I can’t chicken out again, like I did at the service this morning… But no one here knows Chloe, or what she went through, like I do. How the hell could I tell them? About how much she lost, how she changed That Week, all she did for me, the sacrifice she made for all of them…_

_It would be so damn weird… Still. With Dana backing me up, I could at least talk about- no, no Max, you_ must _be drunk if you think that’s a good idea._

_Do I have to just stick to our childhood, then…?_

“I, um… I don’t know,” Max replied, still flustered by the question, “I mean, ye-”

Just then, on the other side of the fire, Trevor clapped his hands together and whistled loudly, accidentally cutting Max off as she drew a sharp, alarmed breath.

“Duuudes, dudettes, and those beyond dude-dom!” he shouted, his voice obnoxiously loud with a drawn-out, inebriated cadence, “Thank you! Thank you for being here! Last call for alcohol, ‘cause we’re gonna pack it in. Chloe and Rachel wouldn’t want you leaving any full bottles in the cooler. So don’t let ‘em down!”

Suddenly, the rest of the group was a flurry of activity. Car keys jingled, feet shuffled off towards the cooler, and voices formed a growing din of side conversations and carpool plans.

 _UGH! What am I even doing here? She’s gone and it’s fucking unfair. How can we just drink and tell stories_ _and go on with our nights_ _like… like she’s still with us?_

 _She’s_ gone _._

_And this is kind of bullshit…_

She knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t just keep sitting here, listening to poignant little vignettes about her dead best friend, filled to bursting with words she couldn’t say and secrets she had to keep.

She’d had _enough_.

Scowling and grabbing her bottle of cider as she stood up, Max was surprised to hear Steph’s voice call out from where she still sat, “Shit! Rolled a one on timing, there…”

Looking up at Max, she added in an earnest tone, “…but if you want, I could make an announcement? I’m sure everyone would-”

“No,” Max quickly replied, glowering, “I get what you were trying to do, but… just forget it.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked away from Steph, the group, and the warmth of the flame, nearly tripping over her feet as she made her way towards the ledge overlooking the water.

* * *

As Max sat on the bench by the lighthouse, she removed the mysterious key from her handbag and turned over in her shaking hands, her fury simmering despite the evening chill. Her jaw ached from how tightly it was held shut as she glared out over the water, the quarter moon’s eerie glow reflecting off the churning ocean waves.

Getting away from the group hadn’t really diminished the angsty, vexed mood that had risen up within her.

For starters, everything about this whole day pissed her off. It was _bullshit._ How many of the people who’d breathed her name today, _really_ knew the blue-haired punk? If they were so ~ _moved_ ~ by her death then where the _hell_ were they when Rachel died, when David’s backhand left a mark for the twelfth time?

Probably talking shit about her, that’s what. This town and that school tossed her out like so much junkyard trash, and now they’ve got the nerve to pretend they cared?

Plus, she would’ve hated all of it… the hushed rooms, the crocodile tears, the euphemisms and clichéd condolences, the formal fucking clothes. She would’ve wanted to go out with a bang. A _riot_. A mob, burning down the Prescott mansion. She would’ve wanted her dearly beloved to _thrash,_ to stage dive, to get wrecked _._ There should’ve been face-melting guitar riffs and shouty lyrics over crunchy second-hand amps, a mosh pit with no men allowed, contests for the worst-best puns, half-pipes and handrails, fountains of booze and platters serving finely-rolled joints with only “the good shit.”

Max laughed ruefully and shook her head as she imagined the scene.

Her own social anxiety would shoot through the roof, no doubt. Max would’ve hated actually being there, either going full-on wallflower or hiding in the bathroom. But at least she’d know throwing an epic Chloe Price Memorial Riot-and-Punk-Show For the Ages would be doing right by her best friend. _Truly_ honoring the punk she loved.

The evening’s boozy story circle wasn’t quite as… loud… but it would’ve met with Chloe’s approval. Maybe. With a few changes to the invite list.

The rest of the day though? _Hella bullshit._

“Max?” Steph said, approaching the bench from behind and walking around to face her, “You mind if I sit?”

Seething inwardly, the freckled hipster slowly shook her head, shrugging one shoulder up sharply as her teeth began to chatter from the cold.

“Thanks,” Steph said, joining Max on the bench. With a cautiously friendly tone, she added, “You want another layer? It’s chilly up here, and I got long sleeves on under this.”

Max offered a reluctant nod, and Steph removed her hoodie, placing it on the bench for Max to take. Folding her shawl onto her lap, she put the sweatshirt on, pulled up the zipper, and flipped the hood up, stuffing her hands into the front pocket.

It was a bit large for her, but it was also soft, comfortable, and most importantly: _very_ warm.

“Th-thank you,” Max muttered, staring down into her lap, “And sorry, um, about walking off.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

A roiling sea of emotions still swirled within her, but for the moment, Steph’s kindness calmed those waters.

_Don’t know why she gives a damn, but… it was nice of her. She didn’t have to leave the group, or come over here, or… or any of it._

_I still feel like shit, but I can try not to take it out on her…_

A set of advancing footsteps from behind the bench caught her attention, and she lifted her head back up, craning her neck to see who it was.

“Hey, girl,” Dana said, her eyes growing wide as she approached.

 _Ugh… fucking superpowers… what if I don’t_ want _you to see how I’m feeling right now? Weren’t_ you _the one who told me, my aura should be my own damn business?_

“Didn’t mean to upset you, but we’re about to leave and I have room in my car. Do you need a ride back to Blackwell?”

Max glanced at the group, seeing chairs folded up, cinders spread out, and ice poured from the cooler. Returning her gaze to Dana, she pondered her question.

“If you want to hang back a moment, you can ride with me,” Steph offered, her tone practical yet vaguely comforting,”we’ve got room. My car, Mikey’s driving. Lex called shotgun an hour ago.”

_That’s… totally something Chloe would do._

“Is Blackwell on your way?”

“Yeah, we’re dropping off Lex’s sister there," Steph replied, “Then, we’re crashing at Mikey’s place before we head back to Portland.”

“OK...yeah,” Max said with a small, fleeting smile, “I’m good, Dana. Thanks.”

“See you when you get back?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Dana gave Steph a quick hug goodbye, gesturing “call me” with her pinky and thumb before walking back towards the rest of the group. As her classmates continued cleaning up, Max turned back towards the ocean, watching the reflection of moonlight on the water as the lighthouse’s beam steadily swept across its choppy surface.

“So, we just met, and I get that,” Steph said quietly, gazing out at the sea and the stars above it, “But, if you want to talk, I’m good to listen.”

Max closed her eyes tight for a long second, releasing a deep sigh and sinking back into the bench.

 _F_ _rom feeling nothing, to feeling_ too much… _if I try to keep_ _this_ _all bottled up, it won’t end well._

_What do I have left to lose?_

“I’ve cried so much today,” she began, still avoiding her new friend’s eyes and focusing on the moonlight wavering helplessly on the waves, “But right now? Honestly? I kinda want to scream…”

“Would it help to know you’re not alone on that?”

“Actually, yeah,” Max replied, subtly nodding, “But why?”

“I went to Rachel’s memorial service,” Steph replied, leaning forward with her forearms on her knees and tugging her black beanie down over the tops of her ears, “Everything else was closed to the family. And her dad was just… completely full of shit. He pretended she wasn’t desperate to get away from him, like he actually _cared_ when she went missing.”

Max finally turned to look at her, the pain in Steph’s voice matching her own mood to a startling degree.

“But right afterwards, when he held his little press conference? That _really_ put me in berzerker stance. I was seeing _red_ ,” she continued, shaking her head and staring at the ground, “He recused himself from her case, and talked about how this tragic experience would make him ‘fight even harder for other crime victims in Arcadia Bay.’ I’m surprised he didn’t announce a Congressional run right then and there.”

 _Wowser… I don’t know_ what _I would’ve done if someone used Chloe’s death as a career stepping stone. No wonder she wanted to leave town…_

“I don’t know what to say,” Max replied, “That’s _beyond_ fucked up. I… I’m sorry he did that, after you came all this way-”

Steph lifted her hand, waving “no” and looking over at Max, “Tonight was worth it. I don’t know what made _you_ want to unleash your Thu’um, Dragonborn-style, but I’m just saying. The way they both went… It’s okay to be ticked off. Maybe that’s how we’re supposed to feel?”

“Thanks,” Max said, chuckling mirthlessly at the Elder Scrolls reference.

It _did_ help to know she wasn’t the only one who was, well, kinda fucking _livid_ about her best friend’s murder, and all the insincere ceremonial posturing that followed. The difference, though, was that Steph at least said _something_ back at the fire pit, something real and honest, while Max kept quiet.

_Then again… she mostly talked about Chloe, didn’t she?_

“Steph, can I ask you something?” she said, reaching for her cider bottle and drinking down the last of its contents.

"Sure."

“If this is _way_ over the line, forgive me, but… You said you’re ‘ticked off’ about Rachel, and about what her dad said. Is that… um, is that why you didn’t really talk about her earlier, by the fire?”

“Damn, Max! Can’t say I really saw that coming,” Steph said, bumping her shoulder against the freckled hipster’s in a friendly, disarming gesture. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much it. I’m just… not ready to get that _deep_ , not with the whole group listening. For all I know, some of them were probably spreading rumors about her, or might be tight with the Prescotts and the D.A.’s office.”

“I _so_ hear that,” Max said with a nod, “Me and Chloe, we both learned some terrible stuff about this town before… before she died. It’s not something I can talk about, really…”

Returning her hands to the warmth of the hoodie’s pocket, she continued, “Even beyond all that. She was my best friend, and near the… the end…” she paused, struggling to get the words out as she became choked up, “I g-got to see a side of her no-one else knew. And all these events supposedly honoring her memory? Polite speeches… her abusive ‘step-prick’ and the Principal who expelled her both standing over her grave… What would _she_ think of this stuff, you know?”

Reluctantly wiping the latest stream of tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand, Max felt her face flush with embarrassment over crying _yet again_ in front of this sweet, down-to-earth person she’d only just met.

Steph slid a couple inches closer on the bench, reaching towards Max’s shoulder without touching and quietly asking, “This okay?”

After Max met her eyes and nodded yes, Steph placed a supportive hand on her upper arm, saying “I’ve got no idea what she’d say… and it sounds like you’re dealing with a _lot_ , Max. Stop me if this is, you know, not helpful but… did _anything_ today make you feel a little better? Did you talk to anyone who was close with her?”

“Yeah, actually,” she replied with a sniffle, “this morning, I talked with her mom, Joyce… She hadn’t seen me in years,” _and she doesn’t know I could’ve saved her daughter_ “…but she loves Chloe so much. And she was just real with me, about how she felt, about how complicated it is trying to process what happened.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But I’m with you on some of this memorial stuff. The solemn ceremonies, tucking family drama and town secrets under the rug… Chloe and Rachel probably would’ve gatecrashed the whole thing.”

“Interrupt their own funerals?” Max said with a mordant laugh, “Like ‘uninvited ghosts’? ‘Stop! We call bullshit on this whole affair!’”

“I mean, what could anyone really do?” Steph replied, mirroring Max’s mischievous tone despite the grave discussion they’d been having, “James Amber, or the cops, or whoever? Charge them with trespassing?”

“Oh, I can see the headlines now. ‘Local apparitions at large!’”

Lex, Stella, and Mikey, the only others still cleaning up around the fire pit, turned to look at the unexpected peel of quite possibly drunken laughter coming from their bench. Walking over, they found Max and Steph both doubled over, each occasionally pausing and attempting to begin a sentence before devolving back into _pssshhhhh!,_ snorting, and more giggles.

“Can you- I mean, their faces! HA!!”

“Running in the cemetery like-”

“You ghosts come back h- eheheh!”

Mikey and Lex exchanged perplexed, begrudgingly amused glances.

“Can’t take you _anywhere_ ,” the green-haired punk said, giving Steph a light, playful punch in the shoulder. Noticing her lack of warmer layers, Lex added, “Hey, aren’t you cold?”

“Sh...sh... _shut up_ , _”_ Steph replied, shaking her head and struggling to regain some semblance of composure. “How many times have I dragged _your_ ass- sshhhhh!”

“It’s getting late,” Lex said with a teasing _tsk-tsk_ , “Mikey, are you good to drive?”

“Sober as a judge,” he replied.

Gesturing towards Max with a smirk, Stella said, “Then why don’t you take me and _Giggles McGee_ over here back to Blackwell”?

“You’ve got it,” Mikey replied with a laugh. “Our chariot awaits!”

* * *

_“Where are you tonight?_  
_I’m lost._  
_I found out the Price,  
_ _the cost…”_

**Worker Bees –[I’ve Got The Whys](https://youtu.be/tCSqTMWmNAE)**

* * *

By the time Mikey dropped her and Stella off at Blackwell, Max’s giggle fit was over. When Max pulled out her phone to exchange numbers and asked about Steph’s plans to return to Portland, she said she had to hurry back for her job: final tech rehearsals were starting for an upcoming show, and apparently they needed her. The beat-up red Jeep pulled away, en route to Mikey’s tiny studio apartment, where Steph and Lex would sleep for a few hours before getting back on the road.

Using the handrails for support, Max and Stella both made it up the steps from the school parking lot to the main courtyard with only mild difficulty. Reaching the top, Max paused, momentarily transfixed by the glow from the lamplights and small groups of hovering fireflies.

_I can only remember one other time I really looked around campus at night…_

The quiet, vaguely spooky atmosphere reminded her of the night from That Week: sneaking out to meet Chloe, breaking into the Principal’s office, diving into the pool…

 _Still can’t believe we_ _really broke all those rules, and jumped in!_

_But it was hella fun…_

A proud, mischievous grin slowly spread across her face as the memory resurfaced.

Stella walked several paces ahead before realizing Max wasn’t with her, turning and covering her mouth when she finally noticed and laughed.

The sound broke Max’s brief trance, and her face fell as she released a deep, heavy sigh. _It was just one week, but I have so many memories of her here…_

As she plodded on towards the dorms, she dragged her feet, and fell even farther behind her friend. Now, the light emanating from the tops of the iron lampposts seemed glaringly bright and almost menacing; the nighttime stillness only made the sounds of her breaths and footfalls stand out more; and each step closer to the Prescott dormitory made her heart sink.

What was the point of being here, without Chloe?

How could anyone expect her to just… carry on?

When she finally made it past all of the lifesized exhibition photos and arrived at the dorm entrance, she found Stella patiently holding the door open for her. Despite the likelihood of more nightmares, the prospect of collapsing into her bed – with _no_ parents in the building – lifted her mood slightly.

With a grateful nod to Stella, she stepped inside.

* * *

Throwing open the door from the stairwell into her dimly lit hall, Max was surprised to hear [the sound of a ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rdr2ZT4kJ2g)[violin’s bow mournfully, yet beautifully, pulled back and forth across its strings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rdr2ZT4kJ2g).

_I’m so tired… but Kate’s finally playing again, and this melody sounds so somber… maybe I should at least check in on her?_

Her head was swimming as she shuffled down the hall to Kate’s door, pausing a moment to double-check her friend’s slate and ensure it was the right room. She noticed that the music stopped before her first knock.

“Oh, Max… And- is that you, Stella?” the sad-eyed violinist said as she opened the door, dressed in pajama pants and an oversized Arcadia Bay Animal Rescue T-shirt, “I’m _so_ sorry I couldn’t join you tonight. After everything with the video last week, and giving my statement, I-”

“No, I _totally_ understand, Kate!” Max replied, inadvertently yelling, “Don’t even worry about it!”

“We just heard you playing!” Stella added, shouting over Max’s voice, “And it was _awesome_! So-”

“…thanks, it’s just transposed from cello music, but,” Kate sniffed at the air between them and looked back and forth down the hall before continuing in a hushed tone, “have you two been _drinking_?”

“Maybe…” Max said, shrinking back and lowering her voice as she noticed Kate’s surprised and worried expression, “but we’re _fine._ ”

 _Ugh, the_ last _thing I wanted to do was upset Kate…_

Her friend tilted her head to the side slightly with a quizzical look in her eyes as she glanced at Max’s outfit. For the first time since returning to campus, Max realized that wearing the oversized-for-her black hoodie over her dress might raise some questions… and that she’d failed to return it to Steph.

_I should really text her. She’ll probably want it back before-_

All three of them jumped as a door opened at the end of the hallway. Brooke peeked her head out, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. However, her face softened when she recognized Max. With a sympathetic nod, she adjusted her glasses and withdrew back into her room, softly closing the door behind her.

“Is that Max?” Dana called from inside Kate’s room, emerging alongside Kate in the doorway a few seconds later, dressed in Blackwell Otters-themed sleepwear.

_Oh! Dana’s here? At least Kate’s not alone… But why does it feel like we’re interrupting something…?_

As Kate hesitantly stepped aside, inviting the tipsy duo in, Dana added, “Oh, I’m so glad you two made it back OK! You seemed so upset, Max. I felt terrible about leaving without-”

“It all worked out. Mikey drove us,” Max said, stepping into the room.

The combination of ceiling light, desk lamp, and floor lamp made the room much brighter than the darkened hallway, causing her to blink rapidly as her eyes adjusted. Though she couldn’t see Dana, she still felt her friend’s eyes on her. Frowning, Max ignored the passing urge to retreat back into the hallway as she pondered what color a drunken aura might be.

“And I _am_ still kinda messed up,” she continued, rubbing her eyes and scrunching up her whole face, “but it’s funeral day and all so…” As Dana and Kate exchanged glances, she added, “I felt a little better after talking to Steph. For today, at least, I think the worst is over?”

“Speaking of,” Stella said, still standing outside the room as her voice echoed down the empty hallway, “I should probly go sleep it off. Gotta catch up on studying in the morning.”

“Might join you,” Max said, biting her lip at the thought of her untouched homework pile, “if you don’t mind some company in the study lounge?”

“Of course I don’t mind, Max!” Stella said, turning up her palms and shaking her head in slow, exaggerated motions, “Just- when I get to Ms. Grant’s assignment, remind me to breathe? ‘Til then- night, all!”

“See you tomorrow,” Max replied.

“Sleep well! Drink water!” Dana said, causing Stella to smile and roll her eyes.

With a wave to Stella, Kate closed the door as Dana and Max each took a seat on her futon. She soon heard Dana rustling through her own small backpack, and moments later, Max felt a plastic bottle being pressed into her open hands.

Finally getting used to the lights, her eyes drifted downwards, finding an unopened water bottle in her hands. Uncapping it and taking several grateful sips, she looked around the room. She noticed that Alice was watching all three of them intently, her nose twitching as she pressed against the side of her cage. Kate’s Bible was lying open on her desk, turned to a heavily highlighted and annotated page. The mirror was uncovered, but some of the photographs of Kate’s family and her congregation had been removed.

After the tiring, irritating, and emotionally draining day she’d had, Max felt most drawn to the open violin case and the bow laying near the edge of Kate’s bed. Even though Kate had been playing a song of forlorn longing, the fact that she’d played at all brought Max a rare, ephemeral spark of hope.

With growing interest in the instrument, Max said, “You sounded _s_ _oo_ _o goo_ _oo_ _d_ , Kate! Did you want to play a little more? Are you, um, practicing for a recital, or-?”

Max was mostly oblivious to the knowing looks her two friends shot each other, as well as the strained patience in Dana’s tone as she attempted to explain.

“Max, Kate’s _also_ having a rough night,” she said, her words drifting through the exhausted haze in the her friend’s mind. “She’s grieving, just like us. And, after the way her church reacted to that viral video, she decided not to go to services tomorrow morning.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

_Shit… am I making it worse? Dana was already here, I should’ve just gone to bed…_

“It’s not _your_ fault, Max,” Kate replied, sitting down on the bed next to her violin case. Placing the bow inside before closing it, she said, “You’ve helped me so much this week…It meant _so much_ to talk to you on Tuesday. And, thanks to you, Victoria took down that video _and_ apologized for ever posting it. _I’m_ the sorry one, moping around on a Saturday night when there’s so much to be thankful for.”

“You’ve helped me, too,” Max said, drinking more water as she glanced at the open laptop next to the Bible on Kate’s desk, then back to the violinist, “Espesh- um, espsh- You both helped a lot today. Don’t know how you knew, but this afternoon? I _really_ needed a hug. So, can we all just take tonight off from feeling sorry for… anything? Everything? All the things?”

_Ugh, great job with the talking, Caulfield._

_But I wish there was something I could do to help Kate_ now _…_

 _Wait – her laptop… wasn’t she looking something up_ _the last time I was here_ _? Was it… the musical! Right!_ _Thanks to Joyce,_ _I_ definitely _don’t need a new camera, and I still have my birthday money…_

“Actually,” Max said with a small, tired smile, “I have an idea that _might_ lift your spirits, at least a little…?”

“Oh?” Dana and Kate replied in unison, facing Max.

“Well, what would both of you think of going to see Godspell in Portland this week? Maybe Friday?”

“Oh, goodness – Max!” Kate said, her eyes growing wide and her jaw dropping with surprise, “I’d love that! But… but those tickets cost way more than-”

“Not a problem. Consider it a thank-you gift for all you’ve done for me. All we need is a ride.”

Sitting up and placing a hand on Max’s shoulder, Dana excitedly chimed in, “Oh, _I’ve_ got that covered. We can go in my car!”

Though startled at first by the unexpected touch, Max didn’t move Dana’s hand away. After a few breaths, she said, “If you drive us, will the Vortex Club get on your case about that?”

“What they don’t know can’t bother them! And, sorry about-”

“It’s OK. Taking the night off from ‘sorry,’ remember?”

* * *

As they continued discussing more details of their upcoming trip to Portland, Max’s energy was rapidly fading, and she found it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. Dana and Kate assured her that they would find a “better” time to iron out the finer points and encouraged her to get some rest.

They were as kind and understanding as ever, but Max’s cheeks were burning anyway, and she stared down at her lap, fidgeting with the handles and zipper on her handbag.

_Can’t believe I let them see me like this… but at least Kate looks excited about Friday. That has to count for something, right?_

Max stood up from the futon, picking up her handbag, tossing the now-empty water bottle into Kate’s tiny recycling bin, and moving towards the door.

“It’s been… such an awful day,” she said, covering her mouth as she failed to hold back a yawn and turning to look at her friends, “I’m _so_ wiped out. But thank you, both, again-”

“Max, before you go,” Dana cut in, also rising from her seat, “there’s one more thing I thought we should get out in the open. It won’t take long, promise.”

“Dana…?”

_What is she talking about? I can barely keep my eyes open… whatever it is, can’t it wait…?_

Turning to look at Kate, Dana said, “I think I should tell you: Max already knows about the auras.”

_Wait, what? She told Kate? Kate believes her? How? When?_

“She knows…? Oh!” Kate exclaimed, her voice a high-pitched squeak. As her sleepy friend’s head continued spinning, she dropped into her ordinary range to add, “Oh…okay. Thanks for let-”

“…and I know about you talking to Alice,” Max blurted out, placing a hand on her own forehead and leaning back against the still-closed door, “And the butterfly?”

“You told her??” Kate said, standing up from her bed and gasping at Dana in disbelief, “You _promised_ that would stay between-”

“She didn’t say a thing, Kate,” Max said, removing her hand from her forehead and holding her palm up in a de-escalating gesture.

 _Wowser… I wasn’t sure I’d_ ever _tell Kate, but this is_ not _how I wanted it to go. Not the night of Chloe’s funeral, not half-asleep and woozy. Still, I don’t want to keep it from her anymore…_

“I figured it out on my own,” Max slowly explained, meeting Kate’s perplexed gaze, “People with… _different…_ um, talents, don’t surprise me because- wait, Dana, did you already tell her…?”

“No, Max,” she quietly replied.

“Well, I… I used to be able to Rewind time. Like, while sober,” Max said, drawing a moment of weak laughter from her stunned friends, “And… and I think Dana will have to catch you up on the details, because I’m seriously about to pass out. I _know_ there’s so much more we need to talk about-”

“It’s- it’s fine. You’re right,” Dana said, looking back and forth between her current- and formerly superpowered classmates with wonder and worry in her voice. “That’s on me. You’re in no condition to… I mean, I should’ve waited to bring this up, I just-”

“…Rewind time?” Kate said, gazing at Max in awe and taking a few steps towards her, “I… I have so many questions. But you’re both right. Max, you should get some rest. Um… I just want you to know, this won’t change anything, OK? I’m still your friend, I’m still here for you.”

As she listened to her friend’s reassurance, the corners of Max’s eyes were suddenly wet with tears. Though she couldn’t lift her arms up enough to invite a hug, Kate got the hint from her more limited gesture, and wrapped her in a close, lengthy embrace. When Dana approached, they welcomed her into the group hug.

The dancer who saw auras, the violin-playing illustrator who conversed with animals, and the formerly time-traveling (ex?)-photographer held each other closely for several long, tearful minutes.

“Thank you,” Max whispered when they pulled away, “This doesn’t change anything for me, either. We’ll talk again soon, OK?”

Kate took Max’s hand in her own and briefly squeezed, carefully avoiding the mostly-healed bruises along one side. Offering a slight, encouraging smile before letting go, she politely opened the door to the hallway and reminded Max to “text if you need me – _any_ time.”

Dana walked out with Max, looping an arm around her back and supporting her weight on the short trip down the hallway. Stepping forward this way was slightly awkward due to Max’s short stature, and she felt it was a little over-the-top. She didn’t feel _that_ drunk. Yet she still found the gesture comforting, even sweet, and let Dana escort her all the way to her door.

After wishing her a good night, Max stumbled back into her room, flipping on the light and gratefully noting her mirror’s unobtrusive silence. She managed to change into her pajamas, take off her necklace, hang up the dress, and remove the sandy key from her handbag before a wave of exhaustion hit.

Sleep was calling to her, but she had one task left before she could leave this day behind.

After turning the tiny key over in her hands a few times, she held it in her palm and placed her other hand on the chest of drawers, leaning her weight against it to keep her tired body upright.

Ever since she’d found the key on the shore far below the lighthouse, she’d kept it in her handbag, a mystery turning in the back of her mind.

Its wide, curved bow had circular, symmetrical hollows on either side, with an imprint of a skull-and-crossbones at the center. Despite how small it was, and the way the metal had dulled and faded, she could still see that the skull wore a bandana, an eyepatch, and a wild grin.

 _This key looks so familiar… it_ can’t _be a coincidence._

_I have to check!_

Her eyes rested on the gift her best friend bought her back in middle school: the snowglobe with a proud seaship flying the Jolly Roger contained within the glass, and a functioning music box in its base.

Turning the snowglobe until the keyhole faced her, she carefully pushed the sandy key inside.

It fit perfectly _._

Holding her breath, the twisted the key clockwise for several turns.

When she let go, it began playing a tune she hadn’t heard since leaving Arcadia Bay over five years ago: [the same sea shanty that always reminded her of pirate adventures and video game marathons](https://youtu.be/kV_3ohvNgK8?t=101) with her best friend.

As the song continued playing, Max turned off the ceiling light and finally moved to her bed, collapsing onto it before maneuvering to burrow under the covers. After checking messages, noting that her parents had made it back to Seattle, she laid her phone on the nightstand. She also slipped her blue and red wristbands off, setting them next to the phone and leaving the spiked bracelet in place on her wrist.

Resting her head against her pillow and listening to the jaunty tune, a final tidal wave of emotions washed over her as she closed her eyes. Her heart ached for her best friend, longtime crush, and pirate captain. Her skin crawled with a sense of vague, uncomfortable vulnerability – as if everyone who’d seen her today had a direct line on her deepest secrets.

 _And Dana actually_ does _see how I’m feeling… and Kate- I can’t believe they’re like me._

_So fucking weird…_

In the moments before sleep finally came, her mind replayed the times throughout the day that her heart pounded, her jaw clenched, her fists balled up, or she’d glared at her friends or snapped at her parents.

She’d been longing to _feel_ _something_ all week, but was it really worth it to just feel… well, kinda pissed off?

All of the day’s rituals and events were ultimately supposed to make her feel better, right?

Was it wrong to feel like it’s not what Chloe would have wanted?

Or that it was not what Max needed?

Or that it was all hella bullshit?

Running her fingers along the bracelet’s dull-tipped spikes, she scowled as she finally drifted off.

* * *

_“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there_  
_I’ll beg you nice from my knees_  
_And when the world treats you way too fairly_  
_Well it’s a shame I’m a dream_

 _All I wanted was you…”_  
  
**Paramore –[All I Wanted](https://youtu.be/W7nmB20qJv4)**

* * *

“ _Nobody would ever even MISS your punk-ass…”_

_Tears poured down Max’s cheeks, reflecting a harsh fluorescent glow as they plummeted onto the cold blue tile below in a barely audible stream._

_Off to her left, a small hammer lay within arm’s length, sturdy and capable of shattering glass to sound the alarm that could save her best friend’s life._

_To her right, the corner of the bathroom stalls beckoned her to break her cover, distract Nathan, and make the sacrifice if she had to._

_For Chloe._

“ _You’re gonna get in hella more trouble for this than drugs…”_

This nightmare again…? _Now…_? _P_ _lease_ let me just wake up!

_As usual, she longed to dive to her right, but remained rooted to the spot._

_As usual, she tried to reach for the hammer, but her arms wouldn’t move._

_She couldn’t even scream._ Nothing _was in her control anymore._

“ _You don’t KNOW who the FUCK I am!”_

 _It always started this way. Back in the bathroom. Powers absent, memories intact. She knew_ how _to save Chloe, but she was frozen in place._

_The only difference was that now the tightness in her chest was unbearable, and her heart felt as if a freight train had barreled into it head-on, crushing any hope of forgiving herself under its screeching wheels._

_Her shield of numbness, her only solace, had fallen away completely by the time she found that key on the beach. For some naive reason, she’d decided it would be a_ good _idea to feel everything. To feel_ this.

“ _Get that gun away from me!”_

_Why grant her the power to Rewind time, only to take it away?_

_Did fate, destiny, or some cruel…_ something _put thousands of lives in her hands? Force her to choose?_

_How many times would her mind torture her with this same dream?_

_What was the fucking_ point _of it all?_

_***BANG*** _

_The gunshot shook the bathroom stalls, the sound reverberating in her ears as she helplessly trembled. Minutes passed by in a blur as Nathan rattled off his horrified pleas of remorse, David burst onto the scene, and the shell-shocked security guard led the devastated gunman out in handcuffs._

_The bathroom was suddenly, disturbingly quiet._

_Max was alone, and finally able to move again._

_She stood and rushed across the room, kneeling down beside her best friend._

_Despite reliving this moment so many times already, she still felt overwhelmed and hesitant to look. Closing her eyes, her voice shook as she repeated, “I’m so sorry… I’m so so sorry, Chloe. It should have b-been me, and you deserved better, and I wanted to save you. I tried… I love you so m-much…”_

_She felt the hard tile beneath her and the breeze from the open window above._

_Her tightly closed eyes were burning, her heart was pounding, and a knot grew in her throat._

_But something was missing._

_Slowly, she opened one eye, seeing a blurry shock of red against white. As she lifted both eyelids and focused, she could not look away. Something seemed to be written there, on the crimson circle-_

_[OREGON OREGON OREGON]_

“ _What the….?”_

_There was no blood, no wound._

_Reaching down, Max grabbed the red ashtray from where it lay on Chloe’s abdomen, dead-center on her shirt’s Misfit Skull design._

“ _...FUCK!”_

“ _Max, that’s a dollar for the swear jar.”_

_Jolted off-balance by hearing Chloe’s voice, Max fell over and quickly scrambled to her feet. Staring wide-eyed at the blue-haired punk, Max took several cautious steps backwards. She instinctively held her breath as she placed the ashtray into the nearest sink’s basin, her unblinking eyes still fixed on her best friend._

_Chloe stood up and brushed herself off, her excited grin waning when she met Max’s eyes._

“ _...shit.” The punk cursed, stuffing her hands into her pockets and hanging her head, “Your face looks hella intense. Guess the, uh, ashtray gag wasn’t- yeah, I shoulda thought that through.”_

“ _Are you cereal?” Max said, crossing her arms and muttering to herself, “It’s just another nightmare, Max. It’s not real. Dr. Hank said the pills would help, but you have to_ take _them if they’re gonna do any good so… just wake up. The sooner you wake up-”_

“ _No!” Chloe shouted, lifting her head and taking a few steps towards Max. Pulling her hands out of her pockets, she clasped them together in a pleading gesture, lowering her voice as she said, “I mean… I can’t make you stay. But if you’ll just_ slow your roll _– I can explain. Pleeeease?”_

_This was already worse than most of her other nightmares._

_Awful and painful as they were, at least they stuck to the script!_

_They didn’t torment her with the illusion – however convincing – of talking to Chloe again._

_On the other hand… she never could resist when her best friend resorted to begging. An insistent, persuasive Chloe Price was a force strong enough to get her combing through trash piles for green bottles – or willingly staying trapped in a lucid nightmare to listen to some mysterious echo of her unmistakable voice._

_Releasing a pent-up exhalation of air, Max asked in a tense,_ _skeptical_ _tone,_ _“Are you… is this…?”_

_Max reached her hand out, surprised when it made contact with the sleeve of Chloe’s jacket, and cautiously patted it._

“ _...a dream? Yeah, it is. And, uh, thanks for the grope.”_

“ _I knew it. You’re not real...” Max said, crestfallen, as she withdrew her hand._

“ _Hey! I didn’t say_ that,” _she replied, nervously tugging her beanie down over her ears._

“ _You_ did _say you could explain,” the freckled hipster said, spreading her arms wide in exasperation, “Well…? So far this all makes_ zero _sense. And my mind’s played so many damn tricks on me, I just don’t have patience for-”_

“ _Maximus, the last thing I want is to cause you any more pain. So… here goes,” the punk said in a quiet, earnest tone, her blue eyes meeting Max’s own, “Back when my dad- when my dad died, um, I used to see him. In my dreams. It was_ really him _, and this is_ really me _. You got me?”_

_The shorter girl’s face softened and her arms relaxed as she held her gaze._

She says she’s _really_ Chloe.

I… I mean, wowser. Sometimes this week, all I wanted was to see her again…

But what if I wake up and it’s all a lie? Another cruel joke from my twisted mind, like that morning at the diner? Just some sort of… I don’t know, some weird grief _thing_?

Still I _want_ to believe her. And after my Rewind, the ghost deer, my friends’ powers and _everything_ I’ve seen… I guess I can’t say it’s impossible?

“ _So you’re… you’re like a ghost?”_

“ _Uh, kinda. You could say that.”_

“ _How can I know for sure?”_

_Chloe opened her arms wide, gesturing for Max to come closer._

“ _Well, you could c’mere, hippie!”_

_Stepping into the hug and wrapping both arms around her best friend, Max leaned her head against Chloe’s chest, trembling slightly the moment they touched. For the next few minutes, the punk quietly held her in a tight embrace as tears pooled in both of their eyes._

_Max slowly relaxed, leaning in and allowing herself to be completely supported. A heartening, energized feeling fluttered within her – the sort of inexplicable bond that always reignited when they were together and on good terms. Her mind flashed through a series of memories- times when Chloe had risked her own safety to step between Max and imminent danger, or had held her when using her powers made her pass out._

_Sharing this moment even helped a tiny portion of her heavy, wounded heart to begin healing._

_This wouldn’t last – she knew that. At some point she’d have to wake up again. Yet being here, in Chloe’s arms, felt different from any dream or vision she’d ever had – it felt solid, and right, and_ real.

_She had to take her best friend at her word._

_She had to believe this was, in fact, Chloe Price’s spirit… or whatever._

“ _I believe you, Chloe. And I miss you so much,” Max finally whispered, a pair of tears trailing down her cheeks._

“ _I miss you, too,” she replied, gently letting go and wiping away Max’s tears before pressing her jacket’s sleeve against the corners of her own eyes._

“… _but I’m here now. And you know how I am with mushy stuff,” the punk added, pulling a familiar Firewalk-branded Zippo lighter from her pocket along with a joint. Flashing a weak, crooked grin, she uncapped the lighter and lit up in one fluid motion. As she took her first hit, she returned the lighter to her pocket._

_Glancing to Max, she held out the spliff in her direction, shrugging as Max shook her head to reject the offer._

“ _I know,” Max said, watching ribbons of smoke rise from the joint’s glowing ember with a breathless sort of awe – as if seeing smoke for the first time. Blinking, she added, “…but I have so many questions.”_

“ _Ask away!” Chloe replied._

“ _So… where you are now, they let you bake?”_

“That’s _your first question? Guess I really_ am _a good-bad influence,” the punk said, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth and tapping out ash into the ashtray, “Right now, I’m in your dream… But, y’know. Not like smoking a little weed is gonna kill me.”_

 _Hearing that word,_ kill _, made Max grimace and turn her face away as an intense ache pulled at the center of her chest._

“ _...too soon?” the punk said, her brow furrowed with concern as she put out the joint and placed a blue-nailed hand on her best friend’s forearm._

 _Max’s words came tumbling out in a rush of raw emotion. “I just wish I could go back again and save you. I don’t know how to… how to go… and nobody_ really _gets it, you know? I can’t stop thinking about, and remembering… and it hurts so much, Chloe. It hurts...”_

_Chloe gently moved her hand to Max’s back, quietly comforting her._

_After a few minutes, she draped her jacket over a stall door and replied in a reassuring tone, “I know it’s hard, Max. This isn’t the same thing, but I was a mess when Dad died. And then, when we found Rachel-”_

_Chloe’s eyes grew distant for a long moment before she continued, “I know what it’s like when someone you love – and who loved you back, so much – gets killed. I wasn’t facing the same apocalyptic time-twisting shit as you… but I still get it._

“ _...and that goes for_ all _the feels. Sometimes I got super emo. Sometimes I got my rage on. Sometimes I ran like hell, away from everything. And for a while, I didn’t let myself feel_ anything _. That’s just how it goes, and like… I want you to know you’re not alone on all that shit.”_

“ _Thanks… I kinda needed that,” Max said, gently poking at the skull on Chloe’s shirt, then at her tattoo, before tugging on her bullet necklace. “It’s so amazing that you're here with me… but I’m scared, too. I don’t understand… like, how? And, after tonight, will I see you again? And-”_

“ _Max, I know it’s hella confusing. We can talk more about all this later – and we will. I promise,” Chloe said, flashing her a roguish grin. “But first, there’s something I want you to do.”_

“ _Anything.”_

_A hint of sadness crept into Chloe’s expression, but quickly faded as she pressed a thick black Sharpie marker into Max’s hand._

“ _Take the cap off, and write – or draw – anything you want.”_

“ _Chloe, I ca-”_

“ _C’mon! Look, it’s_ your _dream – so you won’t get in any trouble. And I’ll be here with you,” Chloe said, holding up her own marker. “It’ll be worth it. You’ve been bottling up a lot of angsty-ass shit – takes one to know one, right? – and it’s time to loosen the cap. Just… trust me on this one, ok?”_

* * *

_Max took a deep breath, looking around the room. Words from the last time she’d been here echoed in her mind as she walked past the last stall, lifted up the marker, and wrote on the far wall:_

_[ **“Get your hands UP!” - David** ]_

“ _That’s the spirit, Max Attack!” the blue-haired punk said, giving her a jocular pat on the back, “You keep writing whatever you want, and I’ll… embellish it. Sound like a plan?”_

“ _Embellish?”_

“ _Just run with it!”_

_Raising an eyebrow, Max moved to the mirror where she’d once seen the strange drawing of a crown, and started writing again:_

_[ **“Hipster to the rescue, huh?” - Zach** ]_

_**[“You brought yourself here, by your own choice.” – JefferSHIT]** _

_Moving back over to Chloe, she saw that next to her first piece of graffiti, her best friend had drawn a sort of “dick mobile” with tank treads and David’s face._

“Very mature _,” Max said with an exaggerated groan, “But you’re not wrong.”_

 _Chloe smirked until she saw the quotes from Jefferson and Zach, her voice momentarily losing its confident irreverence as she said, “_ That _creepy fucker… Max, all the awful shit he did? That’s on him,_ not you. _Plus you_ did _come to the rescue. You sa-”_

“ _Please,” Max replied, shaking her head, “Can we_ not _? I just need to let off some steam, like you said. I don’t want to think too much about it.”_

“ _Roger that,” she replied, climbing up on one of the sinks and setting to work on a quick Super-Hipster doodle._

_It wasn’t long before Max and Chloe had covered three stall doors, another mirror, and parts of the near wall with graffiti. Max’s words eschewed her usual narrow, hesitant handwriting style, as she vented her pent-up frustration in heavy, dynamic, hastily-made strokes:_

_[ **“MaxINE, this is so unlike you…” - Vanessa** ] _

_[ **“Falling back into the blame game…” - Ms. Hilde** ]_

_[ **“...principled presumption of innocence…” - Wells** ]_

_[ **“Protect good men from damaging lies…” -** **Pop** ]_

_[ **“Your sacrifice meant** **nothing** **.” - Nightmare-Vanessa** ]_

_Chloe dutifully matched each quote with an acerbic caricature, though Max noticed the drawings of her parents – her mother as a literal ambulance bearing a giant siren, and her dad as a_ _bearded_ _hockey puck_ _with a newsman’s cap_ _– weren’t_ quite _as hard-hitting as the others._

_When they were finished, Max stood with her arms crossed, catching her breath and admiring their work, as Chloe approached with a triumphant grin._

“ _OK, I admit, that was fun and all. But why did we do that?”_

“ _Just ‘cause.”_

_Max rolled her eyes, tossing her marker at Chloe, catching her by surprise as it bounced off of her chest and clattered onto the tiled floor._

“ _OK, fine. It’s like this,” the punk said, kneeling to pick the marker back up, “When you’ve been through the shit we’ve been through, you’ve got to let it out somehow. Express it. You can’t keep it all inside, right?_

“ _Also, it’s about flippin’ the script, y’know? I mean,” she continued, stuffing the marker into her pocket and widely gesturing with one tattooed arm, “Look around, man. This bathroom… this should upset me, right? It’s where Nathan fuckin’ shot me! Asshole..._

“ _..but. It’s_ also _where I had a blast leaving my mark after getting suspended,” she said with a proud smirk, moving closer to Max and wrapping the same arm around her best friend’s shoulders, “When you think of me, and us, it doesn’t always have to be about gunshots and tornadoes… water spouts… whatever. We had_ years _of awesome adventures… and one week that was fucking amazeballs. Doing shit like this can clear some room in your nerdy little head to remember the times that didn’t suck.”_

“ _I mean… I want to believe you,” Max replied, wrapping her own arm around Chloe and laying her head on the punk’s shoulder as they stood side-by-side, “But right now, I feel like memories keep coming up, and I can’t really control it? I_ want _to focus on the times we got to be together, and happy, but-”_

“ _Yeah, I hear ya. That part might take a long-ass time. But for right now,” she said, playfully squeezing Max’s shoulder and pointing at some of the graffiti they’d created together, “I hope it at least helped to tag some shit?”_

“ _It’s not usually my thing, but, yes. It helped. Probably because I got to do it_ with you _.”_

_They both paused and looked around, taking in the quotes and drawings one last time._

“ _Can I ask you something?” Max said hesitantly._

“ _Shoot,” Chloe replied with a wink._

“ _Too soon, Chloe. We talked about this.”_

“ _...sorry dude. I meant, ‘Go ahead.’”_

_Max withdrew her own arm, slipping out from under Chloe’s and turning to face her._

_Tenderly grasping her best friend’s blue-nailed hands in her own, Max looked into her eyes and said,_ _“With losing you, and what I went through in the Dark Room, and even stuff in this timeline… it’s like no one understands. And I just... How will I ever be OK?_ _Are people s-supposed to just g-get over it?”_

“ _Max,” Chloe said, gently squeezing her hands, “After the Hell you went through, no one with a brain should expect you to be fine by tomorrow, or next week, or next month. But life won’t always feel as nuclear-fucked-up as it does right now, either. You_ will _be OK, eventually. I don’t have all the answers, but I do have something else to show you… something I think might help._

“ _I’ve got to ask you though – do you trust me?”_

“ _Always.”_

“ _Then follow me, hippie!” Chloe said as she let go of her best friend's hands, put her jacket back on, and opened the door out of the girls’ room._

_After turning to flip a double bird to the room, she led Max out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Writing Chapter 6 was a huge challenge, especially tying in so many characters. But I'm excited to finally share it! Great to finally introduce "Ghost Chloe" to you all, too. Speaking of introductions - the OC from this chapter, Lex, also appears in my short-ish Chloe POV fic, Memento Mori.
> 
> I'm pretty wiped out as I write this, so gonna leave it here. Til next chapter - take good care! -Glitter
> 
> ETA (Aug. 2019) - This fic is not abandoned, but it *is* on hiatus. Current estimate for next chapter release is October 2019. Very sorry for the long wait!


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